


Fairy

by turnitoffmckinley



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Canon Compliant, Divorce, Heavy Mentions of and discussions of Rape/Non-Con, M/M, Mpreg, Omegaverse, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-03-05 14:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitoffmckinley/pseuds/turnitoffmckinley
Summary: Come home, Connor whispers back, Come home to me.Kevin can’t.He doesn’t know what home is anymore.





	1. PART ONE: Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taptaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taptaf/gifts).



> I wrote this forever ago as a gift for @elderxprice on tumblr and never published it because of the controversial content (particularly the omegaverse). It's just written for fun and specifically for her; the only other person who's read this is @elderkevinmckinley. I decided to publish it. It's written a two-part hella long oneshot so if it doesn't flow from chapter to chapter that's the reason why. I recommend hitting the "show all chapter" button and curling up with a hot drink and a blanket on a rainy day for a long fic reading haha. Enjoy. 
> 
> I don't want to spoil anything for the rollercoaster ahead but please don't read if you're uncomfortable with rape/non-con. I never show anything but the event with the General and something else that happens to a character are discussed and touched upon heavily. There is no explicit smut in the fic, just strong mature themes. Also if you don't like omegaverse (which is fine) this just isn't the fic for you.
> 
> (Also, I copied this from google drive to AO3... so formatting sadly might be a bit wonky. My apologies.)

**PART ONE.**

_Fairy_.

He closes his eyes, resting his hands on his stomach as the plane soars higher, and higher, and higher above the ground, making the empire state building a tiny speck in the window as New York City disappears in the distance. He feels his soul lifting, too, somehow, rising into the stratosphere as he wills this chapter of his life to close the door behind him. 

He’s made a terrible mistake, really, and he can feel all the anguish of his mate through his bond as he flees away from his troubles. He makes mistakes every day, but this one really, truly takes the cake. There is no turning back from this. Not now, not ever.

There’s an ache in his bones. He can feel Connor McKinley crying as he rummages through every room, searching for any trace that Kevin had been there at all, that he hadn’t dreamed it. Everything’s a dream nowadays. Kevin laughs quietly to himself, feeling his eyes tear up and his cheeks burn. 

_No, it wasn’t a dream, I was there._ Kevin murmurs through their bond.

_Come home,_ Connor whispers back, _Come home to me._

Kevin can’t.

He doesn’t know what home is anymore.

 

.::.

 

The weird thing about being gay is, girls can get away with it so much easier than men according to what limited world Kevin has experienced.

No, _really_ , they can, his father _swears_ by it. Two girls seen together so frequently that they’re about attached to the hip could easily be coded as the classic gal pals, nonetheless ever mistaken for lesbian lovers. Two men who spend a whole lot of time together are fairies according to his father, and that’s the extent of Kevin’s knowledge there.

When he was nine years old, Kevin Price first saw Orlando, with his eyes wide and sparkling with delight and his face lit up with a sort of childish glee that couldn’t be matched by any other. The fairies he saw there, were Tinkerbell and her gaggle of friends, all dressed from head to toe in their sparkly gowns.

“Make a wish, Kevin.”

He can’t remember exactly who said it first on his birthday, but he closed his eyes, and he wished, as quietly as he could,

_I wish to be a fairy and fly far, far away._

He ate chocolate cake, his cheeks all puffed out without the threat of acne from the profuse amounts of sugary sweetness he was ingesting, and topped it off with Dole Whip, and Tinkerbell kissed his forehead. 

That was the best day of his life.

Then, the sticky heat of the Orlando sun was the only heat he’d ever known.

It’s simply not normal for a boy to like Disney.

That’s what his father says, but Kevin doesn’t quite understand it. This is his home, and he feels in the atmosphere.

Anyone can be a fairy at Disney World.

And freely.

As time went on its course, he started to realize his father didn’t mean it in a nice way, and that no, they wouldn’t be moving to Orlando, Florida any time soon. It was Kevin’s special place. He’d be back, though, he knew he would one day. 

He’s nine years old, and then ten, and then eleven, twelve, thirteen before he begins to _manifest_ , and odd things start happening and he grows very, very warm while helping his mother watch his siblings and then next thing he remembers, he’s in the hospital with a cool towel pressed to his forehead and IV’s and there’s a fuzzy, tingly feeling all over his body.

There are whispers. His father looks angry, upset even, and he won’t speak to Kevin at all, not even when through the dryness of his throat he croaks for his dad to ask him what’s wrong, nobody says a word, except his mom, who looks beyond distressed and upset.

“Am I dying?” Kevin asks.

His mother shakes her head.

“Don’t worry, baby,” his mother says, but her hands are shaking, “Everything will be fine.”

“I can’t believe my son’s a _fairy!”_ Mr. Price says, looking so infuriated that Kevin tilts his head away and flinches. 

“Richard--" 

“A **fairy**! He’s going to hell, Marjorie, he’s--”

It launches into an argument between his parents that makes Kevin want to crawl into a corner and disappear forever, tucked away in the gray areas of his imagination.

He lets his mind wander. The room’s sound turns deafeningly numb to him. Kevin Price is dead to the world, at least in his mind. He will never be the same. Nothing about this, will ever be okay.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him, nor what he did to deserve this, but at the pit of his stomach, he feels like he knew all along he was different, that he would always disappoint his father. Through all the yelling and flinching and the slaps on the cheek Kevin always got whenever he did the slightest thing wrong, he was the eldest son, and the failure, and this is what he deserved.

 

.::.

 

Omega. 

This was not Heavenly Father’s purpose for him.

The derogatory statements of his peers as they shove him in the high school hallways. The sexual jokes and that word.

_Fairy._

Tinkerbell is no longer his favorite disney character. He hides the VHS tapes under his bed, amongst his other boxes of hidden things. He can’t look at them anymore.

His dad looks at him with such grief, such hatred, that Kevin shrinks in on himself. A pop to the face when he comes downstairs for breakfast a second late. When he misses family home evening for track. When he does so much as give any indication that he _thought_ about disobeying the alpha’s orders, he is put into his place.

It’s funny, he can’t remember a single time he ever liked his father, anyways.

The picture of the best day of his life is tucked under his soft green pillow. In his childhood colors of lavender and soft blue, he had found green a solace. Green is a safe color. It’s an alpha color. 

“I’m an alpha,” he snaps back at the boys who taunt him. 

“Okay, Mary.” one of them teases. The boy has a gap between his otherwise perfect teeth. His lips are plump. 

Kevin doesn’t know why he’s even looking at them. 

Disgusted, he falls into routine. Church, school, boy scouts, and then those quiet moments he has alone become his sanctuary. A glass of milk, some cookies, and the covers drawn up to his neck to hide the shame. 

Pills. The nightly pills, the heat suppressants. The look his father gives him when he takes them in the kitchen.

“If my son were a man, he wouldn’t have to take heat suppressants,” his dad says, glued to the screen of football, “He wouldn’t be such a disgrace. He’ll be repenting for his sins the rest of his life.”

Kevin remains silent. He has to. Jack gives him a look of pity. Debbie may start crying. If Kevin says anything, he gets slapped, or worse, grounded, and his phone is taken away from him. He isn’t a sinner. He’s never sinned. He’s only ever done good.

He has to be a good Mormon.

He has to.

_Shame, shame, shame._

After that, he returns to his room for bedtime. His mother kisses his cheek goodnight.

“I’m proud of you,” she says, “I love you.”

“I love you, mom.” his voice always cracks, “Goodnight.”

He turns on Madonna in his iPhone, under a folder labelled “Hymns”, and lets that lull him in and out of the empty spaces.

His childhood bedroom’s Disney posters are replaced with religious ones. Crosses adorn his walls, placed there by his mother. She means well. She worries for him.

The eldest son. A dirty **omega**.

 

.::.

 

Heavenly Father must want him to suffer. That’s why his mom and dad send him to Purity Camp. To be a good boy. To be a good, biblical omega. A good male omega.

“Sometimes Heavenly Father mixes up secondary genders,” the teacher tells him, “It’s okay. You will find a female alpha to set things right, or a female beta, and you will either bear her children or, in the case of a beta, she will bear for you. You will find your proper place in society." 

He prays for his sins, he prays to not look at the other boys in their tighter pants with their carved legs and most certainly not with their shirts off.

“I know your secret,” one of them tells them, pinning him up against a shed when the counselors aren’t looking. Kevin’s face turns red. The alpha boy is so close, so, so very close, breathing down his neck.

“What’s my secret?” Kevin chokes out. The boy’s hands find their way to Kevin’s hips, and Kevin feels so strange. The way the boy smiles at him, intoxicating, and those lips, those lips, inches from his own. Involuntarily, he licks his own, staring back up at the hungry eyes looking back at him like he’s something to be eaten. 

“You’re not an alpha. You like people like me, don’t you, omega?" 

Kevin wriggles his way out of his grip and kicks him.

He runs, his eyes watering up and his lungs choking on air, and tells the counselors and then he never sees that boy again. He curses himself for doing it. He curses himself for thinking about the boy’s hands touching his hips in that way.

He hates that he liked it. That he was praised for rejecting something that made him feel…

How _did_ that make him feel?

_Betrayed_.

In the heat and mud, Kevin learns to dig an awful lot of holes at Purity Camp. Heavenly Father wants him to learn discipline, to be submissive, to do as he’s told.

Kevin is an alpha at heart, he wants to be independent and strong. Camp tells him he is a follower, they want him broken. He is a _leader_ , he insists, and proves them wrong. He passes camp.

“You have a perfectly straight boy here, Mr. Price,” they tell his father.

Then, Kevin thought it was a compliment. That he had his head on correctly. He was so wrong.

 

.::.

 

He wants everything a normal Mormon boy wants. He wants a family, he wants a wife, he wants to belong.

He doesn’t know then; he won’t get that. Kevin Price isn’t dumb, but he is naive, and he is shy, and he doesn’t have many friends in school. Sure, he dates a girl or two, but it doesn’t click entirely.

Kevin doesn’t feel anything like he should. He feels dull, empty. He turns to church for guidance, sits and prays for hours on end.

_What is wrong with me? I’m not a fairy. I’m not._

He doesn’t know why he turns to pop music for solace. It’s stupid, and dangerous, because certainly wouldn’t approve. His dad likes Frank Sinatra music and hymns and old music, and especially the classics. His mom listens to Taylor Swift though against her alpha husband’s willpower, and he swears he’ll never tell a soul he knows that.

Debbie watches Disney movies with him in his free time, listens at length to his detailed hyper analysis of each film, every motif, every line. She’s his sister. Sometimes he wishes it were just the two of them, against the world, against everyone.

“What’s it like being an omega?” she asks him once.

“Can we change the subject?” he says, “Can we watch Little Mermaid?" 

She pauses, chewing slowly through her popcorn before swallowing.

“Okay. But you know I’m gonna ask you another time.”

They never bring it up again.

 

.::.

 

Kevin Price has to be the best at everything. He does it to make up for something he thinks just must not be there. Being a man. Being strong. Being himself.

He becomes the captain of the track team. He crosses the finish line first, every time. Running frees him in ways that he cannot be freed at home. He takes the long walk home after, every time, drenched in orange gatorade, and with the imprints of his male peers huddling up after he wins.

He doesn’t know if he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t feel something when a male classmate cheers him on, or what, but he finds himself scratching his arms more often than not.

A guidance counselor calls him in to ask about that.

“You are not alone,” she tells him, “You can be open with me. I won’t tell your parents, Kevin, you’re a top performing student and I know you’ve been struggling emotionally for a while.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Kevin insists, “It’s just my anxiety.”

“Self-hatred will make it worse. It won’t make it go away,” she replies.

He takes an extra insomnia pill that night, and scratches his upper arms till they bleed.

 

.::.

 

He’s the top ranking omega at the Mission Training Center. The highest performing soon-to-be Elder in all of Utah, for all he cares. His hard work had to be paying off. Heavenly Father would reward him, anyhow.

He gets paired with some dorky beta. _Elder Cunningham_ , with a voice so shrill he’s sure his ears will be blown off. Somehow, it gives him solace it’s not an _alpha_ to boss him around.

_I’m the alpha,_ Kevin thinks with pride.

And then they’re sent to Uganda.

The mission falls apart, naturally, within a few weeks, and within a few short months following _that_ , he starts feeling _weird_ sorts of feelings. And of course, it’s their not so subtly gay district leader who catches his eye.

Elder McKinley has pale lips, but they’re plump and look soft to the touch and he finds himself distracted during dinner staring at his undeterred face. Elder McKinley is an **alpha** , but there’s this fragility, this _softness_ to him that’s unmistakable.

The one other time an alpha ever got so close to Kevin, was The General, and well, he doesn’t really think much of _that_. At least, he doesn’t want to, so he banishes it to the back of his mind and keeps those _anal surgery_ documents downpacked in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mission room closet. He doesn’t think of that now, he’s too distracted, too emotionally disconnected from that entire situation. 

The other day, while working on rebuilding Mutumbo’s broken home, he put his hand on Kevin’s shoulder. He was doing it wrong-- missing every beat in nailing things with the hammer. He’d lost his touch. He was distracted. Oh, how wrong it all was.

“Elder Price, may I help you?” he’d said, with a voice like silk.

His cheeks had felt that _warmth_ , and it wasn’t because of the blazing hot sun. They had long since abandoned their missionary uniform shirts, and although McKinley was a prude still, Kevin could feel his hands on his bare back and then McKinley’s hand ghosted down to Kevin’s hand and helped him use the hammer correctly again.

And that smile.

“You’ve got it.” Elder McKinley says, “I’m gonna help the other elders, now.”

Kevin swallows.

“No wait. Show me again.”

He thinks he wants to touch those freckles, again and again and again, his lips leaving marks, swallowing, engulfing him. Elder McKinley doesn’t know this obviously. Or maybe he does. The lack of knowing is what makes it hurt the most.

When he walks, his hips sway from side to side, and Kevin wants to grab them and feel the warm skin beneath his hands but for obvious reasons can’t.

_Oh fuck,_ Kevin thinks, T _his is what my dad meant._

Arnold kicks him under the table with a shit-eating grin. Kevin feels his face grow warm and red.

He turns it off, and clocks in for the night.

 

.::.

 

He likes Elder McKinley.

A whole heck of a lot, he realizes, far more than he had noticed or even cared to note. Connor has this crooked, gap-toothed smile and a soft voice like honey and he finds himself sighing at the mention of his name.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Arnold says.

“Do not.” Kevin whispers, scribbling Kevin McKinley in his journal, again, and again, and again, in cursive.

Dreamily, he rests his hand on his chin. His dreams of a perfect Mormon wedding with an alpha wife in a white dress are disappearing, and he’s picturing walking down the aisle in a blue suit to Connor standing there with that bright, sunny face. Arnold leans in too close, and he slams it shut.

“When’s the wedding?” Arnold quips.

“ _Stooop_.”

He scrubs his face, folding his arms over his chest.

“If I had a crush, and I don’t,” Kevin continues, “I wouldn’t tell you unless we fucked.”

“Oh, so now you’re dream fucking Elder McKinley? _Ohhhh_ District _Leader_!” Arnold squawks, fanning himself melodramatically.

Kevin attacks him in a tickle fight, leaving both of them gasping and laughing and squirming on their beds that are really too close for comfort. They’ve become too familiar, so touchy feely that you’d think Arnold and Kevin were the ones in love.

“Hasa Diga, Arnold,” Kevin sniggers, “I have to go help repair a leak in the mission hut.”

“How romantic. Have fun on your date. I have one with Na Bon Jovi.” Arnold teases back.

“Gross. And it’s Nabulungi, by the way.” 

“That’s what I said! Necrophilia!”

“Sure… pal.”

 

.::.

 

It’s not fair that Elder McKinley is so nice to him.

Well, _Connor_ , now. Connor with the _soft hands_ , Connor who smells like _roses_ , Connor whose _lips are gentle._  

The latter, he knows by accident. He’s sure Connor just wanted to talk about the mission when he called Elder Price into his office. Which, he does a lot often now, getting closer and closer to Kevin and the tension is rising and Kevin may just be some horny teenage boy whose parents aren’t here to stop him from having what he actually wants.

He doesn’t even know when he realized he liked boys. Maybe it was in high school, when he ran track and the other boys huddled up with him before and after a meet and hands touched his back and he closed his eyes and swallowed hard and pushed it all down, down, _down_.

“We don’t have to turn it off anymore.” Elder McKinley had told the entire mission, “No more stupid rules!”

That erupted in a cheer, and a joyous, alcohol fused party in which Kevin did not partake. He was a bit prude. Elder McKinley got very, very drunk, and Elder Schrader got very, very handsy, and Kevin may or may not have _pushed_ Schrader off of him, his face red and his cheeks flushed. Schrader called him a _dick_.

“That’s what Jesus called me already,” Kevin said.

Schrader gave him a weird look, before backing off. Kevin felt woozy with his response, wondering why the heck he would say something like that. Then, he helped Connor make it back to the mission hut, and back to bed.

“Elder _Priiiiiiice_!”

Connor hiccuped, the only partygoer totally smashed, and rolled over in bed to face Kevin, who was sitting on the end with a novel in hand.

“Go to sleep, I’m just making sure you don’t die of intoxication.” Kevin snickered, gently patting Connor’s thigh.

_Oops_. Connor shot a mischievous sort of expression his way, squirming pathetically as Kevin retracted his hand.

“You don’t have to turn it off with _meeee_! C’mon, I know your **secret** …”

Kevin raised an eyebrow, slowly closing the book.

“You’re drunk. Surprise!” Kevin said, wagging his fingers dramatically. Connor didn’t get the sarcasm, he waved it off with another hiccup and a snort. The poor guy was totally hammered.

He painfully kept his hands to himself, as if the touch before had burned him. It was wrong. Being who he is, was wrong.

But Connor always knew better, even as he was drunkenly nodding off, and Kevin helped pull the covers up to his neck.

“You _like_ me.” Connor whispered, “You’re jealous Schrader was gonna give me a BJ.”

“He was _not_ gonna-- _ugh_ , that sounds so corny when you say it like that.” Kevin says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Connor giggles, this high pitched, shrill laugh that nearly jars Kevin out of focus, and then he hiccups again. Kevin smooths down Connor’s red hair, all sticky and matted. He makes a note to wash his hands immediately after this.

“You’re dodging my point. _You like meeeeee_.” Connor chuckled back.

“You think so?”

Oh, he hates how his voice cracked. Now Connor knew. That grin on Connor’s face wins it all.

“Gee, I knew it.”

“Don’t tell anyone about this, okay? Go to sleep. I don’t-- I’m not--”

Connor made the turn it off flick motion with his wrist, clearly on the verge of passing out. 

“Ss’off. Stay here ‘till I _sleeeeep_ , will ya?” Connor mumbles into his white bedsheets. 

“Okay.” Kevin whispered, his voice strained, “I will.”

After that, weeks went by and neither of them mentioned it ever again. Weeks turned into two months, and then here they were, with Connor about to break some bad news. Kevin knows it’s bad, because Connor is pacing and fidgeting.

“Calm down. It can’t be that bad.” Kevin offers, but Connor shakes his head nervously.

“It’s shutting down in three months. I don’t know how to break the news,” Connor says, his demeanor crushed, “I would hate to let everyone down. We failed.”

His eyes got big, and they were very blue, and Kevin focused on the freckles dusted across his face and those long lashes and the slightly parted lips, waiting for an answer, waiting to say something. Take action.

He remembered the boy at Purity Camp. His soft hands. He rests one hand on Connor’s hip. Connor doesn’t flinch like Kevin did, all those years ago. He seems to know, exactly what is happening, and Kevin’s mind goes _blip_ and he forgets where they are and who they are and this time, _he_ is in charge and _he_ gets to be the one who decides what he wants.

And then Kevin cupped his face with his other hand and kissed him.

How stupid.

He realizes it’s a mistake before he’s even processed what he’s done, even when Connor lips part a bit more and he moans-- oh, the joys of being a hormonal, _dumb_ young adult-- back into Kevin’s touch. It takes Connor’s fingers brushing the nape of Kevin’s neck for him to wake up from his daydream kiss.

_Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit--_  

“Elder, wait,” Connor calls after him, but it’s too late, because Kevin heads out the door to his bedroom and grabs the sunscreen. The weather is still warm enough, the sun is still beaming down. He has a few hours before the storm hits.

He walks for an hour. His chest hurts, so he takes off his shirt and lies right down in the sunshine all slicked up in sunscreen. He closes his eyes, and lulls himself to a gentle slumber. He can still remember the lyrics to his Madonna albums. It’s almost comforting. It’s too easy.

A few hours pass, and then the redhead finds him a bit sunburnt and a bit sleepy, sprawled out in the mud.

“Own a shirt, Elder Price?” Connor jokes weakly, taking a seat beside him. He nudges him awake. 

“Mhmm?”

He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. The storm clouds have gathered behind them, rolling in a lot faster than Kevin anticipated.

“Why’d you kiss me?” Connor continues. He doesn’t quite give Kevin a chance to wake up.

“M’name’s Kevin,” Kevin says, “Please call me Kevin.”

Connor smiles.

Damn him.

“Okay, Kevin, why’d you kiss me? Something you wanna confess?” 

“Why do any two people kiss each other?” Kevin retorted.

He cries. He doesn’t know why, but his whole body wracks and his eyes tear up and then he’s burying his face in his hands. That stupid ache in his chest returns.

“I’m so stupid,” he whines.

Connor’s warm arms wrap around him. He doesn’t want Connor to ever let go. Thankfully, that wish is granted.

Softly, Connor whispers in his ear.

“No, you’re not. I promise. Maybe I liked it.” he says, “ _Maybe_.”

 

.::.

 

Running has always been the freest Kevin ever felt. His feet thundering against the ground. The wind rushing past him. It brings a smile to his face, even in the rain, with Connor’s hand in his.

Connor is not a runner, and when they find shelter in an abandoned, broken down shack, he is panting and out of breath.

Other things keep him panting, and pretty soon Connor’s on top of him.

They don’t really do much of anything. They kiss, an awful lot, and Connor’s lips trail down his chest to his stomach and Kevin moans, shamelessly, in the mud and dirt. It’s almost like wrestling, how intoxicating it feels to be writhing beneath an alpha.

“I’ve never kissed a boy,” Connor admits, “I wanted to badly.”

“Then why are you stopping?” Kevin gasps underneath him, “Please keep going.”

Their clothes are a little more than rumpled when the rain clears and they find their way back to the mission hut, no later than 3 in the morning. That’s just the beginning of it all, where Kevin pins him up against the door when he’s sure no one is looking and wrings his fingers through Connor’s hair

“You’re beautiful,” Kevin whispers, “We should do this again.” 

“Okay.” Connor says back, “We will.”


	2. PART ONE: Chapter 2

They  _ do _ .

It starts off as kisses in the broom closet between meals, and then making out in Connor’s office, and it quickly escalates to  **other things** . They’re fast learners, with whispered nothings and nervous, giddy glances across the dinner table.

He remembers his first time very lovingly. It was in Kevin’s room; Arnold was with Nabulungi. They locked the door, the room felt oddly cool for such a warm, intimate setting.

They had done pretty much everything leading up to such an occasion. At twenty years old, Kevin had thrown everything his religion had taught him out the door in a matter of months, and especially the  _ no sex until marriage _ part as soon as he had an alpha to give that to. In his mind, this was a  _ forever  _ kind of thing. 

“I love you.”

It was the first time Kevin said that. He held his breath, bated for Connor’s response. The redhead held him very gingerly, their lips mere inches apart.   
  
“I love you, too,” Connor reciprocated.

That really make Kevin more than eager to please.

It was over a little too soon, with Connor’s hand over Kevin’s mouth to keep him from being too loud, and the sheets all tangled up and their bodies kind of gross and sweaty.

He would do anything to keep him. To keep  _ this. _

 

.::.

 

Their “first date” in Uganda is by the local watering hole, maybe a week or so before they had sex for the first time. And by  _ date _ , it’s late at night, and they’re skipping stones. 

_ How romantic. _

Connor is far more efficient at throwing rocks into the water than Kevin thought he was. His arm draws back. He looks so calculated and precise.

“I went to Salt Lake a lot as a kid,” Connor explains, “I was lonely.”  
  
And then he chuckles like he always does, lets loose, and throws the stone across the water. 

He picks up another stone, and pushes it into Kevin’s hands.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Kevin says. “Me too. Not the Salt Lake part.”   
  
“I find it hard to believe you didn’t have friends, love, you’re awfully handsome.”  
  
Kevin blushes. Thank gosh it’s night out, because he doesn’t want Connor to see. For some reason, he still finds it so hard to show affection. Maybe because he knows their time in Uganda is running out.

He lets go.

One, two, three.

“Good throw.” Connor says, and then chucks one that bounces five times, all the way across the pool of water.

“Why don’t we make this a game?” Kevin suggests.

“A stripping game?”

Raising his eyebrows, Kevin smirks.

“Elder McKinley, that’s against the rules.”  
  
Connor unbuttons the first few holes on his shirt, tenderly, exposing the fact he doesn’t  _ have  _ his temple garments on. They’d long since abandoned their undershirts, but it makes this game proposal amongst all other things beyond appealing. Kevin doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath. He releases it, his chest sighing as he takes in the steady view of Connor’s bare chest as the shirt slips away and floats to the ground, stark white against the gentle midnight wash of the water and the sky.

These moments, he loves. 

“We already broke Rule 72. Amongst other rules.” Connor points out.  
  
“If I get eaten by a hippo, I’m blaming you.” Kevin complains.

Connor tilts his head back and laughs, before his hands touch Kevin’s shoulders in that comforting kind of way and pecks him on the lips.

“Likewise, Kev.”

 

.::.

 

Nabulungi is the first to find out.   
  
They live in a country where they can’t really,  _ really _ come out of the closet, safely, but she asks, and Kevin bursts into tears and she hugs him, and, well, that makes him feel a lot better.

Until she tells Arnold before he gets to do so.

“You’re my best friend,” Arnold says, with some disappointment, “You know I love you, buddy.”

Kevin wrings his hands from where he’s seated on their bed, in nothing but his Disney’s The Lion King boxer briefs (which, thank goodness BFN returned their suitcases after his  _ conversion _ into the church, which he is still admittedly dubious of and avoids the hell out of him). He doesn’t really like this kind of confrontation. This whole experience has made him a heck of a lot less of a leader and more of a follower. He hasn’t decided whether or not he loves or hates that. Yet, Elder Cunningham isn’t an alpha overbearing over him. He’s a beta, but he’s his best friend and his companion.

“You know I’m an omega. This was bound to happen,” Kevin says, slowly.   
  
“I mean, I kinda knew you and Elder McKinley were up to something. You aren’t subtle. Haha.” 

And then with a giggle, Arnold punches his shoulder teasingly, before rolling over and settling into bed. In puzzlement, Kevin shakes his side.

“What? So that’s it? You’re not mad. Like, you’re  _ not _ mad?”

“Why would I be mad? I knew you were gay.”

Making a face, Kevin folds his arms over his chest.   
  
“Wait-- when did you figure this out?”   
  
“Mission Training Center,” Arnold says, rather matter-of-factly, “You kept blushing whenever another Elder complimented you.”

Kevin’s lips curl into an “o”, and he starts drawing the covers close, before he rolls over onto his side to go to sleep.

It takes him a moment to think about that. Arnold isn’t exactly incorrect. In high school, he’d learned quickly not to stare, or get flustered when another guy talked to him, and how to keep his face from getting red, but it was awfully hard when the school knew how goddamned  _ closeted _ he was and everyone called him a  _ fairy. _

“I guess you’re right. I did have a crush on Elder Green.” Kevin admits, shyly, and then he laughs about it.   
  
“I am so gay.”

“See?” Arnold says, “Nothing to be upset about.”   
  
“I  _ am _ gay.”    
  
Kevin puffs out his chest, beaming from underneath the white covers. He grins to himself, feeling somewhat full; of what, he wasn’t sure. There’s something really comforting, about your best friend and your best friend’s girlfriend being so loving and accepting, that he repeats it silently to himself, again and again and again.

_ I am gay. _

_ I  _ am _ gay. _

_ And you know what, Dad? _

_ Fuck you. _

 

.::.

 

He’s addicted.

It’s not a drug, or smoking, or drinking.

He’s become intoxicated with Connor’s lips, his voice, his tongue. He wants Connor’s hands to touch him all over, and he falls dangerously, dangerously far from grace, especially in those last few weeks. In his desperation to keep Connor, he sneaks into his office after meetings with other Elders and takes up his time with making out, Kevin seated in his lap and teasing his nipples between his fingertips before it ends far dirtier than Connor expected.  
  
“Call out my name. You know you want to.” Kevin growls, low and husky in his ear.

“Kevin,” Connor whimpers, as Kevin’s hand slips lower, and  _ lower _ , and  _ lower _ down.

“I’m yours, but you gotta be louder than that.”   
  
“ _ Kevin _ ,” Connor moans, and Kevin’s hand is  _ there  _ now, palming the tent in his pants, “I’m supposed to be working,  _ uh _ ,  _ shit _ \--  **Kevin** \--”

Kevin hastily unzips Connor’s pants, crawling down onto his knees with a hum of approval as Connor gives him the exact response he wants.   
  
“What? You want me stop?”    
  
He presses kisses onto Connor’s thighs, pulling his slacks down as gently as he can. To his relief, Connor is wearing boxers and not temple garments. Kevin had abandoned his a long while ago. Connor shakes his head, covering his mouth with his hand.   
  
“No,” he muffles under his fingers, “Kevin, please.”

So he  _ doesn’t _ stop. Instead, he licks and nips and kisses like some sort of hungry, horny animal. Underneath his mouth, Connor squirms and whines and bucks, curling his free hand’s fingers into Kevin’s thick brown hair, his moans keeping Kevin going. 

Later that night when Connor admits he wants to take Kevin home with him, that relieves every bone in Kevin’s body. He has someone to come home with-- someone to come home  _ to _ , someone who will protect him.

He just doesn’t know just yet what he needs protection from. He’ll find out soon enough. The bliss of Uganda hadn’t completely died out from his stupid, hormonal heart, telling him that what he had with Connor was perfect and would be forever and that they’d be a perfect couple forever, and ever.

It just doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t know that yet, but at least for a while, he got to be ignorantly, perfectly, stupidly in love with someone, and have a sexual awakening, and the blood, tears, and sweat of Uganda brought him something.

Someone to love.

 

.::.

 

“I thought you were my best friend.”   
  
It’s not Arnold who says this, it’s Chris, and Kevin presses his ear to the door to listen.  
  
“You  _ are _ my best friend.” Connor replies.

“So you’ve been sleeping with Elder  _ fucking _ Price for almost two months and just casually decided it was okay to not tell me that? What’d you think I was gonna do? He’s the only other  _ omega _ here that isn’t  _ me _ , do you really think you’re doing the right thing?”   
  
“I don’t know, Chris.”   
  
“You should end this. You’re being stupid.”

Kevin’s blood boils.   
  
“I’d rather not.”

Kevin has to bite his tongue to keep in his sigh of relief. The tension only grows, and grows, until they’re on a rickety plane going home and Kevin’s just beginning to fall asleep on Connor’s shoulder before they’re on the way home. Chris glares at them, a look of betrayal on his face that he paints on all the way to the United States.

It’s okay. Kevin didn’t really like Elder Poptarts that much anyways.

 

.::.

 

His father disowns him the moment he’s seen with Connor on his hip. It’s not surprising. Kevin feels awfully numb.

“Fairy.” his father calls him. 

“I’m not a fairy.” Kevin says, through gritted teeth. He can’t even cry. Isn’t that sad?

Then, his father says a whole lot of ugly things, and even though he coached Connor on being quiet and not saying anything, his boyfriend sure as heck decides to open his mouth.   
  
“You should be ashamed,” Connor says, “You’re a pathetic father.”

His father reaches out to slap Connor, and Kevin steps in the way. Needless to say, it is Connor’s arms around him and not his mother to shield him after. His mother is crying, though, and they have to leave, and she hardly gets to say goodbye. 

Kevin just stands there, listening to his siblings and mom struggle to say they love him when they know the consequences of not doing what the  _ alpha _ of the household told them to do. Instead, he just numbly lets Connor lead him away, lets Connor fuss over his injury, and kiss his good cheek and let the tears loose.

Connor is  _ crying _ .

That’s what makes it feel the absolute worst. He warned him this would happen; and the lack of response from Kevin’s end is probably what’s bringing his boyfriend grief. His ears are ringing and he slowly begins to feel the sting in his cheek, but not by much.

He hardly feels it. He hardly feels anything, anymore, not even when Connor sits him down in the airport terminal and says he’s going to find first aid to get an ice pack. He returns ten minutes later with one, and he wraps it up in a shirt from his suitcase and holds it to Kevin’s face for a moment.  
  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t listen,” Connor whimpers, “I’m so sorry, Kevin. I don’t know why I did it.”   
  
“It’s not your fault. He’s right. I’m a fairy.” Kevin says, completely monotone.

After some hesitation, Connor cups Kevin’s jaw to tilt his face towards him, inspecting the blossoming bruise on his face. Kevin takes the ice pack from him, holding it up in his stead as Connor covers his mouth to keep from sobbing.

“It’s not okay that he hit you, you know that, right?” 

“I’m used to it.”

“Jesus christ…”

His boyfriend wipes his eyes on his sleeve, keeping his breathing steady. Then, Kevin’s chin begins to quiver.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to hurt you,” Kevin says, “I wanted to protect you.”

“You did nothing wrong.  _ Nothing _ , Kevin. I should be protecting you.” Connor says, “Is that clear? You don’t deserve someone treating you like that.”

“I’m sorry.” Kevin repeats.  
  
“Please don’t apologize, you haven’t hurt me. I’m hurting  _ for _ you, not because of you.”

Connor kisses his forehead, and rests his chin on Kevin’s shoulder. It’s a long wait for Connor’s mom to find their terminal. She got off of work when the plane landed, and Connor warned Kevin there would be a wait. They’re nearly asleep by the time she gets there, and Kevin’s ice pack has melted and he’s found his way snuggled up with his head on Connor’s chest and Connor’s arms around his hips securely, as though Kevin would fall apart if he wasn’t held so tightly.

He probably would. He’d never tell Connor that, though. The poor boy worries enough, and cares deeply, and feels Kevin’s pain without them ever even bonding. He’s always been so perceptive, so deep, and so loving. He always knows when Kevin is sad, or upset, and always has some way of cheering him up.

Nothing can make this day any better, really.

That experience is quickly masked by the appearance of Connor’s mother and sister. Maggie could be Connor’s almost-twin, with the curls and the freckles, but she looks a little off.  
  
“We don’t have the same dad,” Connor whispers, “I’ll explain later.”  
  
Connor looks sad, though, even when Kevin finally meets Connor’s mom; she is so perky and sweet and swallows them both up in big hugs. He finds out why-- Connor doesn’t really have a  _ dad _ , and he’s never met his father, and his mother was raised Mormon, and the more Kevin tries to wrap it around his head, he cannot understand why, with such a loving mother, that Connor never came  _ out _ before, and why he went on a mission, and why he didn’t know these things about Connor in Uganda.    
  
And he wonders, how much does he really know about his boyfriend? What does he still not know?   
  
He gets the guest bedroom in their home for the meantime. Mrs. McKinley helps him buy new clothes. Connor is especially attentive, kissing Kevin on the cheek before dinnertime and asking what he needs. It’s so unusual. Connor’s family is so loving, why can’t Kevin’s parents be the same way?

He misses Debbie. Then he remembers her teary face at the airport, and he closes his eyes, and hopes to forget that moment.

Forget everything.

Connor touches his hand, and smiles, and he realizes that he doesn’t want to forget.

Needless to say, he doesn’t sleep nearly as often as he should in the guest room that’s set aside for him. No, he ends up in Connor’s bed, with his alpha’s arms around his waist spooning him until he feels safe and secure.

Rain pitter-patters against the window. He watches it run down the windowsill, like big weepy tears. The world is crying for Kevin Price. He cries so much more than he used to, but alone, where Connor can’t see him. He doesn’t want his boyfriend to know anything’s wrong, when he feels like their being together is so right.

 

.::.

 

Their first date in America is at a little diner in downtown Salt Lake City. In Uganda, it was easier to be more open, Kevin has discovered, because it was better in secret. They were more honest in a life of keeping their relationship secret. 

Still, Connor reassures him the best he can, and holds him more and showers him with affection and Kevin does everything to do the same. He picks up a job as a barista-- his newfound love of coffee certainly helps with that-- to help pay for the expenses of living, of their upcoming college. They’re going to achieve great things. Kevin has to believe that; it’s what Connor tells him, that this can work, that they can be happy.

“Aren’t we already happy?” Kevin says, “What’s the next step?”   
  
“Are you?” Connor replies, hesitantly, “Honey, you can be honest with me.”   
  
With his white-toothed, perfect smile, Kevin says, “I’m happy. I promise. You’re who I want to be with.”

Connor, ever the nitpick, brushes the hair out of Kevin’s eyes. Kevin snorts, pulling out his phone to use as a mirror to adjust his hair back into place.

“You need a haircut. You’re getting shaggy,” Connor chuckles.

“And you have scruff, you need to shave.” Kevin retorts. It ends in them both laughing, and holding hands openly across the table, when they used to not be able to do that.

It feels nice. It feels right. And that’s all that Kevin wants and needs. For now.

 

.::.

  
  
“There’s something I really need. From my house.” Kevin admits, “I want to call my sister. Maybe she can help me.”

“I don’t know, Kevin,” Connor says, rubbing the nape of his neck, “That sounds dangerous, I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

He doesn’t know how he manages to convince Connor, the biggest worrywart on the planet, to help him sneak into his childhood home in Provo, an hour away from Connor’s home in Salt Lake City. Connor’s probably right, this  _ is _ dangerous, and Connor is literally shaking as he drives them down the highway.

“Easy. It’ll be okay.” Kevin lies. He has no idea how any of this will ever be okay, but Debbie says she grabbed some things, put it into two of his bookbags, and will help maneuver it out the window. Whatever that will entail, and how they’ll pull this off, he won’t know until they’re there.

They pull up a few blocks away, and Kevin walks idly through the backyards of his neighbors, between the fences and all the way up to the house, where he waits until he knows his father is asleep, to crawl up the trellis and knock on Debbie’s window.

“Kevin!” she greets him, a little more than excitedly. He hushes her, drawing her into a squeeze of a hug before he asks where his things are.

He slips her a letter, to read later, with his contact information and his new residence.

“Is he nice to you?” Debbie asks, handing over the bookbags, “Is he Prince Charming?”

“I love him.” Kevin says.

He didn’t realize how hard it would be to tell her, till he does, and he has such limited time, as he throws on  _ two _ backpacks and has to climb out the window at any moment.

“I love  _ you _ ,” Debbie says, “Be safe, Kevin.”

“I love you the most. Thank you.”

They hug, Kevin climbs out the window, and he cries on his way back to Connor’s car. His movements are sluggish, not just from the heavy bags, but from the tears that fog up his vision, causing him to stumble.

He loves his sister so much.

That was the last time he saw Debbie for the duration of his four years of college.

Connor is an anxious wreck by the time Kevin returns, having bitten his nails to oblivion and his body shaking until Kevin gets into the car.

“Jesus, I thought you weren’t coming back.” Connor admits, “It’s been an hour.”  
  
“I’m okay.” Kevin says. He wipes his eyes, puts on his brave face, and gives Connor a weak smile.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Connor asks.

“No. I wanna go home.” Kevin says, “Can we?”

“Yeah. Let’s do that,” Connor says, “Before I have an aneurysm or something.”

Their ride home is mostly silent, save for the soft background noise of Kevin’s new  _ Madonna _ album. He tries to listen, but it’s too painful, and he turns it off

Just like he turns off all of his past. Now, it’s just what he wanted. Him and Connor against the world.


	3. PART ONE: Chapter 3

The soundtrack following their first two years in college is mostly  _ Lady Gaga _ , whom he discovers Connor is a huge fan of. It brings him some nostalgia of his high school  _ Madonna _ days. The rest of it is  _ Cher _ and accompanied by mass quantities of RuPaul’s Drag Race and some cheap booze and some college parties.

By coming out of the closet, Kevin  _ threw  _ himself into the gay party scene at Utah State. He can’t go to BYU anyways, and Arnold’s at State, and so is Nabulungi, and ironically also Chris and James, so their friend group is partially restored.  
  
Chris has a soulbond with James, now, and a baby, because heaven knows why they couldn’t wait to get their hands on each other and just start having their  _ big Mormon family _ , and Chris gives Kevin a dirty look and turns his nose the other way whenever he enters a room.  
  
“Why haven’t you two bonded yet?” Arnold says, too loudly, at a party. 

“What? Kevin says, over the music.   
  
“I said, why haven’t you two like  _ bonded _ yet?”

“We’re not ready for that commitment!” Kevin replies, “Besides, not all of us want to have kids right away.”  
  
He takes a swig of his beer, running his hand down to his waist to pull up his  _ astoundingly short _ and  _ awfully tight _ shorts. He doesn’t even like  _ beer _ , he prefers vodka.

“Woooooah buddy,” Arnold laughs, “Is that like your third one?”   
  
“So?”

He downs another sip.  
  
“It’s a party, Arn, loosen up and get laid with Nabs.”   
  
Arnold’s eyebrows pop, and he looks awfully surprised and alarmed by that statement. He rubs the nape of his neck nervously. Kevin looks him over. He’s in a t shirt and jeans, per the usual these days as far as “dressing up for the party”. 

“I know that you and Connor are like, super sexually active, but uhhh, Naba and I haven’t exactly-- y’know...”   


“You’re a  _ virgin _ . Aha.”  


Kevin pushes a beer into Arnold’s hands.  
  
“What happened to Super Mormon?” Arnold asks.

“He’s dead, to be frank, and I am  _ living  _ right now. Let loose, Arn, and live a little bit, too.”  
  
“Are you two happy?” Arnold says, innocently enough.  
  
“Jeez, you’re gonna hit me with the hard questions, huh? I mean, I have no family and we live in Connor’s mom’s house. But we’re okay.”

And then suspiciously, Kevin quips, “Why? You think something’s wrong with us?”   
  
“No, no! I’m happy  _ for _ you guys. It’s just awfully weird that you two haven’t bonded yet, you’ve been together longer than any of us. That’s all.”   


The music feels louder, piercing even, than it was before as that sinks in. Connor is starting to approach, and his arms slips around Kevin’s waist as soon as he gets nearby.  
  
“Babe, I’m so hammered,” Connor moans, “Can we go home and fuck?”   
  
“Yep! Let’s go, tiger.”

Over his shoulder, he smirks and waves Arnold goodbye.  
  
“Take my advice, Arn. Live a little.”  
  
He’s pretty sure Arnold does  _ not _ take that advice. At least…

Not that night.

 

.::.

 

“Do you think it’s weird we haven’t bonded yet?”   
  
He doesn’t know why he says it, because Connor gives him a  _ look _ and they’re sitting in the college dining hall, and Kevin quickly explains himself.  
  
“Arnold asked me it at the party last week. Why we aren’t bonded. And I didn’t really have an answer. Because he said we’ve been together longer than any of our friends and have been, y’know, sleeping together before we were even really a thing, and--”   
  
“Kev, you’re rambling. Are you asking me to bond with you?” Connor says, rather bluntly.

“No.”

Another look.   
  
“Really, I’m  _ not _ , I just, I don’t know why it bothered me that he said that. Like a mark on my collarbone is gonna validate our entire relationship. That’s a decision most of us make when we’re married, and we’re not married.”   
  
Connor shifts uncomfortably, and Kevin can’t help but feel downcast by the look of disdain that his boyfriend, his  _ alpha _ , has.  
  
“Kevin…” Connor says, “Sweetheart…”   
  
“Oh god.”   
  
Kevin’s heart about stops.  
  
“You’re breaking up with me.”   
  
“What?” Connor blinks. “No,  _ no _ , I’m not dumping you.”   
  
Kevin exhales, deeply. This was the man he  _ loved _ , who he’d abandoned his family for, who he gave  _ everything  _ up to be with, including that full ride to BYU he’d worked very hard for.   
  
“Fuck, no, I’m not dumping you,” Connor says, reaching across the table to grasp Kevin’s hand, “I just was gonna say that… what other people say about our relationship, is not their business. Okay? Nobody gets to decide when it’s right for us to make that choice. Even Chris has said some dumb stuff to me. Take it as a grain of salt. And it’s your choice, Kevin. I’m not gonna make you bond with me, unless that’s what you really, really,  _ really  _ want.”   
  
“One day,” Kevin blurts out, “I want it.”

Connor’s face turns a bit blushy, and this awkward sort of smile appears as quickly as it’s gone, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer.   
  
“This is the one thing we didn’t rush into when we started,  _ y’know _ , and it’s special to me. It’s special that we’re waiting till marriage.” Kevin says.

“Oh. I didn’t realize you, uh, wanted that.” Connor says, “Not to sound like a dick or anything, because I do too,  _ one day _ , I just never wanted to bring it up. I wanted it to be your decision. Marriage, it is.”

“Thank you.” Kevin whispers, feeling a bit choked up, “It’s important to me.” 

The sex they have that night, is some of the best Kevin’s ever had, and it honestly makes him feel… revived.

He can do anything.  _ They _ are a team, and one day, Kevin will have him forever.

 

.::.

 

They’re supposed to be studying on their mutual day off from school. They scheduled classes so they could have one day together at home, but their legs end up tangled together with bedsheets between them and not much else on their bodies but the pink throw blankets on Connor’s queen size bed. 

Mrs. McKinley has long since given up on enforcing the rule of Kevin staying in the guest room, because Kevin’s clothing, article by article, has ended up in Connor’s bedroom anyhow-- either hanging up or discarded haphazardly on the floor. It’s embarrassing, to say the least, but she makes cheeky comments when they finally lumber down to the kitchen for breakfast (or lunch, if they wake up  _ really _ late) and Kevin is wearing one of Connor’s shirts and Connor has on Kevin’s hoodie. 

“Had fun last night, boys? How was the party?” she asks, as snarky as ever (though Kevin loves her snark, he knows it’s laced with affection).

Connor groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was their fifth party in a month. Kevin gives a little smirk.  
  
“He’s hungover, he got smashed.” Kevin answers.   
  
“Connor McKinley,” she mock-scorns, “You’re setting a bad example for your boyfriend. I mean, I could hear you two, you really need to be careful not to have the bed hit the wall when you--”   
  
“Mom!” Connor complains.

“What? You’re not the screamer, be thankful.” she says.   
  
“Hey!” Kevin teases, “It’s not my fault Connor--”   
  
“Oh my god, can we eat lunch?” the redhead moans.

This was the usual banter between them at the kitchen table. It had a sort of rhythmic air to the flow of it all, that weaved its way through the food and into their souls. It felt like a family. 

They were  _ his _ family.

 

.::.

 

After five minutes of waiting, the third test has a + on it. 

“Aw, shit.” Kevin groans, rubbing his temples as he examines it again, “Did the condom break?”   
  
“We never wear condoms.” Connor replies.   
  
“Right. Ugh. We should’ve been careful. But I’m on the pill. Did I miss a day?”   
  
“No, you take them faithfully.”   
  
“The only faithful thing I’ve ever done.”   
  
They laugh, because the situation is awful, because the last thing they want is  _ this _ too early.

A baby.

Connor’s hands are shaking, badly, and he’s pacing again even through their shared self-deprecating humor, and worrying, and listing off every bad possibility.  
  
“Oh, my mom’s gonna kill us, we haven’t even finished college.”

“No she won’t. I mean, she’ll be mad at you, but she won’t kill you.”

“I’m gonna have to work extra shifts! One of us will have to take parental leave. Ohhh, I don’t wanna mess with your education.”  
  
“Connor--”  


“I’ll do it. I’ll make sure you get your degree. I’ll take time off. Acting won’t miss me. We have to--”   
  
“Connor--”   
  
“Oh, but what if something happens to the baby? What if I drop it? What if I forget to feed it? I don’t know what babies do. My sister was a baby when I was ten and for obvious reasons I never had to take care of her.” 

“I raised my siblings.” Kevin interrupts, “Really. I did. I know how babies are. We’ll be okay.”

Nothing about this is really okay, but Kevin thinks, maybe they can make it okay.

He doesn’t want to be a parent. His dreams, of the wife and ten kids and the white picket house fence, feel so far away, because this is reality, and this is his life with Connor.

His future of being in Connor’s life is now secured. That’s for sure. No matter the outcome, whether they bond or not or stay together or not, they’re going to have a baby, and they will be forever entwined because of that.

And maybe it’s good luck. Maybe this is what Heavenly Father wanted.

“I’m happy.” Kevin says, “I think we’ll be good parents.”   
  
Connor doesn’t look so sure.   
  
“You’ll have to go off your antidepressants, Kevin. That could be bad.”

“I don’t  _ feel  _ depressed a lot. Anymore. It’s been, what, two years? I’m fine.”   
  
Another look.   
  
“ _ Connor _ , will you trust me? I’m not broken.”   
  
“Of course you’re not,” Connor corrects, genuinely apologetic, “You’re not broken, Kevin, I wouldn’t ever think so poorly of you.”    
  
“Then  _ trust _ me. This will be great. We can go baby shopping… after we tell your mom.”   
  
“I’m telling you right now, Kev, she’ll kill us.”   
  
“You. She loves me the most, she’d never kill me.”

“That’s… a fair analysis.” Connor replies.  
  
His face is pale, and his body is still trembling, and Kevin presses a palm to his cold and clammy forehead.  
  
“Oh, you dummy, you’ve worried yourself sick.”   
  
“I’m actually about to throw up,” Connor laughs, “You might want to leave the room.”   
  
Connor clamps a hand over his mouth, rushing to the toilet. Kevin turns on his heel, taking the warning and immediately heading back to the bedroom.

Over his shoulder, he calls out.  
  
“Wash your mouth out before you come to bed to blow me, please.”

Instead of a response, he hears Connor emptying out his lunch into the toilet. Fantastic.

He closes his eyes, pausing in the doorway.  
  
“Connor?” he says, softly.

“Yeah?”

“You think we’re gonna be good parents, right?”   
  
“Anything’s better than your dad.”  
  
Kevin exhales, letting his eyes open again. He’s got a wonderful home. He’s got a wonderful boyfriend, a wonderful family about to begin.   
  
“You’re right. There’s nothing to worry about.” Kevin says. He runs his fingers over the wood of the door frame, feeling the cool, earthiness underneath his hands. It’s been carved, sanded, and molded, so that he won’t be splintered, but there is something so genuine, so real about this, that it grounds him in this moment.

He has to believe everything’s okay. 

It’s not just about him anymore.

 

.::.

 

He likes being pregnant.

He really does. He likes watching the slightest inclination of a pudgy belly beginning to flower and bloom. He likes the attention-- not that Kevin ever didn’t  _ like _ attention, he practically showers in it when he walks in a room.    
  
He likes that it brings the elders back. A new baby is exciting, and Nabulungi especially is on speed dial. If Connor isn’t available, Naba is there, studying for her GED and listening to Kevin bitch and complain.  
  
“For someone who claims to have let it go, you sure whine about your parents an awful lot,” she says, as they go through the baby aisle at Target.

“It’s not my fault my dad fucked me up. Besides, I’ve been sober for  _ three months _ , and I wish I could have some red wine right now. Or some pinot grigio.” 

Naba looks at him with equal parts amusement and disdain, not saying anything as Kevin plops down baby booties into his cart.  
  
It takes him a moment to register the incredulous look on her face, but then he’s left practically sputtering.  
  
“What’s so funny?”   
  
“You.” she giggles, “I know what you told Arnold last semester.”

“What’d I tell Arnold?”

She shrugs, pursing her lips innocently enough. She’s maddeningly cocky right now, tilting her head at just an angle as she turns away and reaches for a Disney onesie.   
  
“That he should let loose and have sex with me to stop being so damn weird. It worked, if you’re wondering.”   
  
“Lovely,” Kevin says, but his sarcasm is low in comparison to his impression at Arnold finally taking the reins.  
  
“And how was the pillow princess?” he asks.

“Oh, stop,” Nabulungi says, “he is not a  _ pillow princess _ .”

She holds it up for approval. He nods, and it ends up in the basket. They move down a couple aisles, their eyes scanning the racks for more baby clothes that Connor will complain about when Kevin gets home.

“It’s  _ good for the soul, _ ” Kevin argues, “You don’t understand the healing power of baby shopping because you let me do it all.”

“We have to save money,” Connor counters every time, “Sweetheart, the baby doesn’t need twenty onesies when we don’t even know its gender.”

He thinks about it, drifting off before he remembers that they’re talking about Arnold, and Naba is waiting for a response. He pops his lips, giving her a look filled with mischief.   
  
“Wanna bet? I lived with him before you. Pillow. Princess.”   
  
“You’re a pillow princess.”   
  
“Yes,” Kevin retorts, “But I have an excuse and a baby daddy who gives me what I want.”

“Is that what Connor is?” she says. 

“No, he’s my certified babysitter. I’m the baby he sits.”

That makes her laugh, and then Kevin’s laughing, and he realizes how badly he’s missed this. How much he’s needed his friends, and his family.  
  
Family.

Debbie.

His heart lurches, and he stops laughing, and he shuffles uncomfortably.

“I’ve been a bad friend.” he admits.  
  
“No, you haven’t--”   
  
“I have. I’m sorry. I’m a narcissist.”   
  
“That’s why Arnold and I love you. You’re so full of yourself.”   
  
Kevin snorts, it’s not entirely a compliment but there is a sweetness and a genuineness to it; at least, for the first half. It makes his eyes water up a bit.   
  
“Thanks.” he says. She doesn’t quite get why he’s emotional, but Nabulungi doesn’t question him, just rests her head on his shoulder and hugs him from the side.   
  
“You’re okay, Kevin, believe me. You have done nothing wrong.”   
  
“I have. It’s fine, you don’t have to pretend I’m not a total self absorbed dick, believe me.”   
  
“You have it hard, I know. So do I. So does Connor, so does Arnold. The world is hard.”   
  
After a moment, she lets go and changes the subject, gently squeezing Kevin’s shaky hand.  
  
“Baba says it will be a girl. I got to call him on the telephone and tell him all of your white boy gossip.”    
  
“It’s a boy.” Kevin says, “I don’t have the official gender but I’m naming him Matthew.”   
  
“Matthew is not a girl’s name,” she giggles, “Baba always knows.”   
  
“Matthew isn’t a girl’s name because it’s a boy’s name. Tell your old man he’s crazy.” Kevin says, gently bumping her shoulder.

“Alright. I will tell Baba that he is crazy, but when you cut open the cake and it’s pink don’t you tell me that he was wrong.”

 

.::.

 

The cake is pink.

Kevin stares at it dumbly for a moment. Connor’s crying tears of joy.

“I’ve always wanted a girl,” Connor cries, clasping his hands together, “Oh, Kevin.”   
  
“I wanted a Matthew. A Gaston-type strapping alpha boy,” Kevin says quietly.

_ I don’t want my child to live like I did. _

_ Like I  _ do __.  
  
“Gaston’s the villain. We’re having a girl. A Belle.”   
  
His blood runs cold. He tries his best to smile, to pretend he’s okay, the rest of the baby shower. He does not want his baby to be like him, to be hurt and ridiculed like him, to be treated like they’re different. This is his baby, his child, the one thing in his life he loves more than his boyfriend.

He feels her stir beneath the skin of his stomach. She flutters, she kicks. Kevin closes his eyes and rests his hands there while everyone else is celebrating this child to be. The ringing in his ears just goes silent, and he finds himself wondering what Heavenly Father would punish her with.  
  
What if she’s an omega?   
  
What if she gets Kevin’s bad genes?

Will she get to be happy?

Will she be a  _ fairy? _   
  
Even with Connor’s arms wrapped happily around him that night, he does not sleep.

He wonders. And waits.

 

.::.

 

It’s cruel that she comes two months early, and Kevin’s put under anesthesia and his legs are bleeding because he tripped down the stairs and his breathing is labored and Connor screams for someone to call 9-1-1. There’s a gurney and his vision is all blurry and he remembers,  _ they never even got to choose her name _ .

They were walking through the 2nd floor commons, their heads held high and big dopey grins on their face as they talked about their dinner plans for that night. Then, they took the stairs, and one misplaced foot and sudden cramping throughout his whole body, and Kevin tumbled.

Down, down, down.

He didn’t get back up. Kevin couldn’t, he was frozen in place to the ground and his head was throbbing. He kept bleeding from his legs, his voice strained as he began to cry in pain and Connor was absolutely panicking and sobbing and not sure what to do. 

“The baby,” Kevin croaked, “Please, she can’t breathe-- she can’t breathe--”

He’s going to die, probably, and so is she, and it was all a waste. His whole life, wasted, and hers as well.  
  
It doesn’t turn out that way.

She’s 5 pounds at birth, but healthy, with a stable, beating heart and Kevin has a scar on his stomach when he wakes up. C-section, Connor says, his eyes red and bloodshot from all the crying, and his face as white as a ghost.  
  
“Where’s she?” Kevin moans, “Where’s she?”   


“She’s in the ICU. Kevin, I panicked, you’ve been out for twelve hours, baby, I thought you weren’t gonna--”   
  
“I want my baby. Please.”    
  
And he cries, and he cries, and he doesn’t even know her name and he starts crying louder until the nurses give in and they bring an itty bitty bundle wrapped in a little rainbow blanket to his arms and she’s so, so tiny he’s afraid he’s gonna break her, and he’s so tired that Connor has to support her head.

“I named her Fae. I hope that’s okay. It means fairy. I thought it was beautiful,” Connor chokes out, hardly able to breathe from the stress.

It’s a cruel, cruel trick, and Kevin’s cross, and then he’s crying.   
  
“Why would you name my child  _ fairy _ ?” Kevin sobs, “I didn’t want her to be a fairy, I wanted her to be a princess. She’ll be bullied forever.”   
  
He lets it all out, burying his face in his hands when they take this beautiful, beautiful child of his back to the ICU, and nothing Connor can say at the moment can fix this situation.

“Her middle name is Marie, we don’t have to call her by  _ Fae-- _ remember, we agreed on the middle name-- we--”   


“I’m tired, Connor,” Kevin weeps, “my head hurts. Please stop talking. Please. Just call my dad and tell him he’s right.”   
  
“Honey--”   
  
“All my children will be  _ fairies _ like I am. All of them. I’m a bad seed. I’m tired. I want to sleep.” Kevin croaks, too worn out to even cry anymore. 

He feels numb, even as the tears roll down his cheeks, and the cramps flare up in his stomach and legs, he closes his eyes and for the first time in a long time, is able to sleep.


	4. PART ONE: Chapter 4

They get married pretty much the next week after that, when Connor says he wants to make Fae legitimate and he offers it to Kevin. Kevin’s not sure why he feels so empty on the altar. He loves this man, so, so much and Connor is smiling so big and they haven’t gotten to take Fae home yet, but Connor’s mom and sister are there and so are their friends…

And Debbie didn’t answer the invitation.

They end up in the Marriott hotel in Salt Lake, with the sheets so crisp and white and nothing like the fuchsia of Connor’s bedroom. There’s no fluffy throw pillows or sequined blankets and posters of Lady Gaga and  _ The Phantom of the Opera _ . It feels empty.

It’s like a hole is in his stomach, and that hole was ripped out of him when Fae came too early, and he’s now married and he has a ring on his finger and Kevin should be happy. He loves his family.  
  
Doesn’t he? Does he have one anymore?

He threw his last name away. The last traces of Kevin Price probably died years ago. He used to doodle in his college notebooks dreamily,  _ Kevin McKinley _ , over and over again with mickey ears in the top corner. He wanted a Disney wedding in Orlando, it was his dream, and his mom would walk him down the aisle, looking so proud of her baby. She’d tell him that, too.

_ Mom _ .

He curls into himself on his side, running his fingers over his healing scar. There are still stitches, so he’s gentle as possible, but it still feels… empty.   
  
“Are you okay?” Connor whispers, in the darkness of their bedsheets when they’re all done with their wedding night.

There’s a mark on his neck. It hurt when Connor bit down, sinking his teeth into the fragile skin intended for the bond. The blood seeped onto the sheets and the pillow, and Kevin groaned in pain as it stung.  
  
Connor kept asking that question, being ever so careful and delicate with Kevin as the process went on. When it was all said and done, Kevin just laid there, bearing all the pain in his soul and splitting it to give himself up fully to his alpha.   


“I’m okay.” Kevin replies, “Just thinking.”   
  
Connor rolls over, propping himself up on his elbows. He looks so happy.  _ So _ happy.

“About what?” he says.   
  
“Our baby. I miss her.”

“We’ll see her soon.” Connor promises.   
  
After some hesitation, he adds,  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay?”   
  
“No... but I will be. Eventually. I think. I don’t know. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay,” Connor says, “But you’ll tell me if you’re not, right?”   
  
“Yeah. I will.” Kevin murmurs, “Let’s go to sleep, Con, I’m tired.”

For once, Connor doesn’t argue. He just wraps his arms around Kevin, and wishes the bad spirits haunting him to leave him be.  
  
The problem is, the troubles that are haunting him, and very much so alive, are his parents, and fairies can’t always wish their past away with a pinch of stardust.

 

.::.

 

Kevin McKinley.

It’s on the documents, it’s engraved in his ring.

It’s so strange, to feel it roll of his tongue. It’s not that he’s unhappy that he’s married; despite the stressful circumstances, but it’s the lack of the -- _ Price _ , the lack of the recognition of a life that he has left behind, is completely gone. It doesn’t feel quite right yet. He wants to make it right.  
  
“How is Mr. McKinley today?” James asks over their beers.

It’s the first time he’s really been able to get out of the house since the stitches were removed from his stomach, leaving the ugly c-section scar behind all over his body, etched into his skin. He stares at it often, in the mirror, tracing its marred mark across his torso to his belly button, crudely cut by the doctors and carved into his skin permanently.

It feels off.

There’s a hole, and he scratches his hips because he’s scared of tearing his stomach, and he scratches his arms and thighs and Connor finds those later when they get into bed and he cries with big, glassy eyes and asks Kevin to tell him what’s wrong, but he  _ can’t _ , he doesn’t  _ know _ what’s wrong with  _ himself _ to begin with.

“I don’t know.”   
  
And then Kevin laughs, and he realizes James isn’t laughing. James looks concerned, and he reaches for Kevin’s hand. The brunette twitches, pulling his hand back before the contact can happen.  
  
“I don’t know, I feel like something’s wrong with me,” Kevin says, “You don’t understand.”   
  
“Have you seen a doctor about this?” James whispers, keeping his voice low.   
  
“No-- Connor’s so  _ happy _ , would you do that to him? Tell him his new husband has something wrong with him?”

“You should tell him how you feel.”   
  
Kevin drinks to  _ that _ , kicking back and letting the hot, simmery beverage slip down his throat into the abyss, down, down, down, as if it’ll burn away his scar and take away the hole and fill it up with booze instead.

“I can’t.” he says, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.   
  
“Why not? He’s your husband. You can tell Connor anything.”  
  
“He’ll leave me if he knows I’m crazy. I don’t want him to leave me.” Kevin blurts out, and then suddenly feels cold. He rubs his temples with his fingertips, feeling the first slog of booze settle into his stomach with a painful clarity.  
  
He’s being stupid. Reckless, even. Connor’s gonna worry. He’s gonna come home and Connor will look at him with sad, teary blue eyes and he’ll grasp Kevin’s hands and sit him down and ask, “Baby, will you let me help you?”

And then there’s Fae, who just cries and cries on end and Kevin finds himself sometimes too scared to approach the crib, because he’s afraid. He’s afraid she’s like him. A fairy. Weak-minded. Broken. He’s afraid he’ll break her and lose her forever. He won’t carry her down stairs, because what if he fell again? What if he killed their baby?   
  
Connor would certainly leave him, then, and Kevin would have no one. How would he live with himself? Would he keep on living?   
  
It’s enough that James notices the brief flash of panic across Kevin’s face, and then there’s nothing but pity and empathy in one of his dearest friend’s eyes. Kevin hates that.  
  
“I’m not weak.” Kevin growls.

“I didn’t say that,” James says, genuinely puzzled, “I’m just worried about you.”  
  
“James, can we change the subject? I came out here to have fun.” Kevin retorts.

“Uh, sure, yeah,” James says, “Watch any sports lately?”   
  
Kevin snorts and slings back another sip of his beer.   
  
“That’s your thing. Connor and I watch Drag Race and the Emmy’s and that’s about it.”

“You two are so uncultured. Baseball is where it’s at.”   
  
“The Poptart monster approves?” Kevin sniggers. James makes a face.   
  
“The  _ poptart _ has a name.  _ Chris _ and I have a little boy, and that boy likes baseball, so…”

“I get it, I get it,” Kevin groans, waving him off, “You like to inflate your masculinity. Can we get another round? This is my first drink since I got pregnant in the  _ first place _ .”

 

.::.

 

Fae is five months old, and as happy as a baby can be, whose whines are charming enough even to win the heart of anyone who sees her. She waves her fists arounds and screams at 3  in the morning, but it’s okay, because Kevin feels like he has a purpose again, a  _ duty _ . Even when Mrs. McKinley insists that  _ she _ can help with the baby,  _ Kevin _ insists that  _ he _ can do it, with his chest puffed out in pride. She’s so tiny, and adorable, and he thinks he wants her to stay this way forever.

That’s a good day for Kevin. 

The bad days come more often than not.

He’s not physically going to school anymore, rather, he’s all online, so he helps around the house and he takes care of the baby while Connor finishes his acting degree. It’s hard, and the joy of their baby is quickly worn out by the overwhelming depression that follows.

Connor makes him go to therapy after one too many panic attacks, where the baby is screaming and Kevin finds himself curled up into a corner tucked into a ball. It’s embarrassing really, the way he just sobs and crumples and begs for his family back.  
  
“I want my mom,” Kevin bawls, “I feel like I’m so empty, I feel like something’s missing, I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. I’m so useless.”   
  
Connor’s youthful glow has been diminishing, and there’s a new wrinkle between his brows. A wrinkle of absolute concern and worry and pain, and the bags under his eyes are all dried out and dark from his own tears. Kevin can’t even bring himself to look in a mirror anymore, he knows he looks like shit.

Still, his husband kneels beside him, and touches his knee, and rubs his back until all the terror goes away and Kevin’s just left a mess, unwilling to get up from his spot. He’s a stubborn one.  
  
“Can I be honest, Kevin?” he asks.  
  
“No.” Kevin moans.   
  
“I think you have postpartum.” Connor continues, without waiting for permission, “I think you need to go back on antidepressants.”   
  
“I don’t wanna be a zombie,” Kevin hiccups, “I didn’t feel anything. I feel so much, right now.”   
  
“It’s hurting me,” Connor whimpers, wiping his eyes on the backs of his hands, “I can feel this too, you know. The hurting. I don’t know how to help you.”   
  
“I want my mom.”   
  
“You know why she doesn’t reply to your letters, sweetheart. Please, try to understand why contacting them is a bad idea.”   
  
“I want my mom, Connor!” Kevin screeches, “You don’t  _ fucking _ get it! I want my mom, and my sister, and I want them to help me, and maybe then I won’t be so fucking  _ unlovable _ !”

Connor flinches.

Oh.

Kevin can feel it through their bond, the sharp pain in his chest as Connor covers his eyes, his shoulders shaking from behind his hands.

“Connor, I don’t mean that.” Kevin sobs, “You know that I love you, right?”   
  
Connor doesn’t reply right away, and shit, Kevin  _ knows _ he’s fucked it all up now. Seriously, terribly, horribly fucked it all up and they’ve got a child to think about, and they’re married, and this is all so new and scary and already out of control.  
  
“I just want you to be happy.” Connor croaks miserably.

“Connor--”   
  
“I’ll find your mom, okay? I don’t think you’re gonna get what you’re looking for. I think we need therapy.”   
  
And that was that, and Kevin has to swallow those little pills every day, and see two different therapists a week, one by himself and one with Connor in tow, and feel the numbness wash over him. Connor tries to find Kevin’s mom, but there’s never a reply.

“Your dad probably intercepts these, baby,” Connor says as Kevin frantically types up another letter. He shakily kisses Kevin’s forehead. The whole ordeal makes everything so strained now, when before, they were so close.   
  
The therapy is painstaking. Agonizing, even, and especially difficult to manage in a landscape of hostility on all ends. Connor’s mom looks at him with pity, even with all the love in her heart and words for him, and Maggie, his sister-in-law, hardly speaks to him now. She seems scared of him, even when he’s in a good mood. 

Crazy Kevin McKinley. 

Broken Kevin McKinley.

Fairy Kevin McKinley.

He feeds Fae, perched in the backyard as the summer breeze drifts through the trees. He listens to them rustle in the wind, and the air is crisp and cool. He’s always liked nature. He’s always liked birds, the ones that chirp in the treetops and bid him be still, and he especially likes babies. It’s nice. It’s soothing.

This is a step towards progress. Connor isn’t home. He can handle the baby alone again. Progress. 

Green glass love. It’s like the fire that went away came back, and they’re kissing and getting dirty and talking like they used to-- before the baby, before everything fell apart. It feels like Uganda again, through a rose tinted lens, and Connor is affectionate again, and Kevin finally lets his family go. They don’t want anything to do with his child, their only blood grandchild to date, then they shouldn’t be in her life.

So he thinks.

And then, after a year of letters sent back with a “return to sender” stamp, Connor comes home with one in his hand with no red lettering. And Kevin tears it open immediately.

He skims it hungrily, digesting every single word that belongs to his mother. The letter smells like her. Maybe he  _ is _ crazy.

_ Dear Kevin Price, _

Ugh.

_ I would love to see my granddaughter. She’s a year old now, isn’t she? Your father does not know I am writing this whatsoever, so let’s keep this hush-hush. Can we arrange a time and a public place so I can meet her? Without your… mate in tow? _

_ Mom. _

Kevin breathes in. He breathes out, and then hands the letter to Connor.

“This doesn’t sound good.” Connor says.  
  
“You’re a worrywart. This is progress. I’m doing fine.”

“She doesn’t want me there. Fae is my child, too. Do you think this is best for her?” Connor asks.   
  
Kevin looks away. Connor _is_ right. In a way.

“No, really, Kevin. Think about this. Is this a good idea? You haven’t seen her in four years. We’re about to graduate college. This sounds like your dad wrote it.”

It’s been a long time since Kevin’s read his mother’s handwriting. His heart sinks.   
  
“Yeah. I’d rather you be there.” Kevin says.

Yet, the paper smells faintly of his mother’s lavender perfume, and it brings him back to days in the kitchen, helping his mother bake chocolate-chip cookies. When he was her  _ little helper _ , when his sister came by and they both got her undivided attention, an inseparable pair. It’s a time long forgotten, memories warped by fear and tears and Kevin wondering what he did wrong.

What did he do wrong?

It’s all a fantasy. But isn’t it sad-- Kevin wants it to be real. Again. 

 

.::.

 

He dips his toes in the swimming pool, all too conscious of the scar on his stomach. He feels like the hole has gotten bigger, and it’s hidden right underneath his skin. He scratches his arms until Connor’s fingers wrap delicately across his wrists, and he guides him to the deep end, laughing and snorting as they kiss at the poolside on the third anniversary of their mission. The other former Elders have gone to bed in their hotel rooms.

It’s just the two of them here.   
  
“Three years ago we were skinny dipping in the water hole,” Connor reminds him, letting his finger trace over Kevin’s lips, distracting him from thinking about how  _ ugly _ he thinks his own body is. Disgusting.

“Three years ago we were completely stable.” Kevin laughs, and nips his finger. Connor yelps, but it dissolves into a giggle as he clutches his “wounded” fingertip.

“If there weren’t cameras everywhere I’d totally fuck you in this pool.” Connor murmurs, and resolves to suck on a spot on Kevin’s neck. 

Kevin groans, his eyes half-lidded as Connor’s body presses up against his, their skin touching skin and Kevin’s own lower torso begins to react wildly inappropriately in the pool, even if no one else is there. He pulls Connor off of him while he still has some resistance, and makes to leave the warm, sensual waters of their hotel’s dimly lit pool.

“Then let’s go strip upstairs and get it over with,” he teases, “You know you want to.”

 

.::.

 

  
Kevin wants to dream, one day, that Fae will have Connor’s soft curls and freckles and eyes, so that no matter how far apart they grow, he’ll always have a little piece of him there.  
  
He imagined a Matthew, before her reality, with Connor’s red hair and and Kevin’s eyes and he would be a tall, strong alpha and he’d come home with a girl on his arm and have a normal,  _ normal _ life even if Kevin became fragile and broken in every single way, their little Matthew would always be there, with a smile and to kiss his fathers on the cheek and look after them as they got old.

Kevin thinks about growing old with Connor, when they lie there alone, in the dark. Connor’s face is so soft and spotless now, despite the dark bags from raising a baby and the dimples and the creases when he laughs. His face is most beautiful at rest, with the soft, sleepy smile, and the soft grunts of, “Kevin, go back to  _ sleeeeeep _ …”

“I don’t wanna. You’re too pretty,” Kevin chastises, “You go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

He likes to drift off to the light sounds of Connor’s snoring, of his husband’s arms wrapped over his shoulders and squeezing him warmly. He likes to be held tight, like a hug, with their chests pressed together and Kevin’s nose pressing into Connor’s shoulder.

It feels safe.

It feels right.

This is the happiest they are; just the two of them together, and Fae is the best parts of them, he hopes, he prays. 

And for a while, he forgets.

 

.::.   
  
Graduation happens just like that, and the two boys are clad in their graduation caps and Kevin’s grin is so wide when Connor and Kevin  _ McKinley _ follow each other up the stairs to get their bachelor’s degrees.  
  
“I love you,” he whispers, as they make their way up, “I’m so proud of you.”

The sloppy kisses Connor smothers him in as soon as they’re offstage are all worth it in the end, and for a little bit, Kevin feels that spark of love anew again, burning bright, keeping strong.

“We’ve been together for almost five years. Pretty neat, huh?” Connor says, “Let’s make it last ten times longer than that.”   
  
“If ten times longer equates forever, then yeah,” Kevin murmurs, “Let’s do it.”

 

.::.

 

It’s another few weeks before he gets a reply from his mother, who went radio silent until after graduation. And then, he and Connor are having lunch with his mother, who coos and fawns over Fae like she has seen her for years, and glares at Connor from the corner of her eye.

Kevin pretends not to notice the tension in the room, as much as it hurts him. Like how his mom squeezes his hand almost too tight and Connor does the same with his other, and it’s like he’s trapped between two worlds, where each are pulling him a different way and Kevin McKinley is stuck in the middle.

Connor means well, he’s trying to protect him; his husband is beyond just suspicion and borderlining on immense worry. He can feel it in their bond.

His mother doesn’t make things much better, she mentions how much his father purportedly misses him and would like to see him again soon.

Alone.

Connor suspects conversion attempts, and he keeps an arm wrapped around Kevin’s hip-- protection, or ownership, Kevin’s not sure at this point-- and the other underneath the baby to keep them close at his side. Without his face betraying him, Kevin feels the strain through their bond, how upset Connor grows the more Kevin’s mother speaks, the more distant Kevin feels from the situation.

When it’s all over, he hugs his mother goodbye.  
  
“We’ll stay in touch,” she says, “Your father wants to see you.”   
  
“I love you, mom,” Kevin chokes up, his throat swollen up with tears, “Please call me sometime soon. I miss you.”   
  
She doesn’t say any of that back. She just waves goodbye, and Kevin watches her disappear from the restaurant, step by step, until she vanishes into the childhood van that Kevin learned to drive ages ago. He misses the smell, the seats, the sliding doors, the laughter of his siblings as he turned every corner and their celebration when he finally learned how the wheel worked

Often, in Uganda, Kevin dreamt of driving up to Connor’s home to take him on surprise dates to his favorite place in the whole world. A place even now he hadn’t taken him to, yet-- an airplane field, outside of Salt Lake, but just off of an abandoned road near the highway. His dad took him here many a times growing up, before he was an omega, before he was anything but who he is now. That dream will never be. The location hurts him too much. 

Connor sighs, wringing his wrists in his lap.  
  
“I hope you’re not going to see them without me there.” he says.

He looks a bit steely, hardened, even, and overprotective in a way Kevin didn’t realize Connor was capable of. It aggravates and relieves him both at the same time; Connor truly loves him. It’s just not fair to put Kevin in this position.  
  
“You’re not in charge of me.” Kevin says, and then winces, because Connor  _ is _ his alpha and very well  _ could _ order him not to.

So quickly, he adds, “You promised you won’t make me do anything I don’t want to do when we bonded. You promised.”

That’s what begins to tear them apart at the seams. Years later, when Kevin looks back at this moment, he thinks of the upset look on Connor’s face, and Fae’s babbling and squirming, and how he ignored it. He ignored his family, he ignored it all. 

The look of disappointment on Connor’s face says it all, and Kevin finds himself struggling to hold on to something--  _ anything _ \-- to keep him adrift.

 

.::.

 

He’s always liked sharing baths with Connor. That kind of became their thing when they got back. Bathing and wine, their knees bumping against each other in the warm water as they shared the details of their day. Nothing really changes in that regard, it became their weekly ritual that went away a bit when Kevin was pregnant and lowering himself down into a tub was too painstaking. 

Tonight, Connor prepares a bubble bath, and they dip their toes in the warm water and for once in a long time, he smiles when he catches Kevin’s grin back.

“What’s so funny?” Connor says.   
  
“You,” Kevin giggles, “You’re so tense.”   
  
“Maybe my husband is always the tense one, so when I’m tense it feels out of the ordinary,” Connor snorts back, but there’s amusement laced in his tone. 

“Am I now?”    
  
Kevin splashes him, and Connor  _ tsks _ in disdain, glancing at his doused hair in their bathroom mirror. Kevin holds back another snicker, as Connor looks less than pleased.    
  
“I already washed my hair yesterday, now it’s all frumpy again.”   
  
“ _ You’re  _ frumpy.” Kevin teases, fussing with Connor’s hair (and ultimately getting it even more damp than before). 

“I have something to ask you.” Kevin says. 

“As do I. Can I go first?” Connor asks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, uh, you go first. What’s up?”

It’s the night that Kevin decided he wanted to  _ do it _ . Tell Connor what’s really been on his mind, and really, really, what direction he wants to go with their relationship. He feels confident, happy, even, with his life now. His parents contact him in waves, in and out, encouraging him to rejoin his faith but he quells that down and appeases Connor and looks after the baby instead of giving into their requests. He merely shakes his head, insists he is happy (which  _ he is,  _ mind you), and that Connor is his other half.

It just seems like Connor has other plans.   
  
“How would you like to move to upstate New York?” 

His husband looks nervous asking the question, his fingers tapping against his knees in the bathtub. The  **bathtub!** Kevin feels self conscious, indecent even, for such a question in  _ such _ a setting.

“What?” 

His jaw about hits the floor, and the water suddenly feels cold, and Kevin folds his arms over his chest in annoyance.  
  
“Kevin, let me explain--”   
  
“What do you mean,  _ upstate New York _ ? We live in  _ Utah. _ Our family is in  _ Utah. _ ”   
  
“I got an offering, to be a company member at an equity theatre in Albany. They saw me at Utah State’s last musical. They had me audition.” Connor says, “This could be really good for us.”

 

Kevin sniffs begrudgingly. Then, the whole thing goes to shit.   
  
“Sure, Connor, good for  _ you _ . I just got my job back at Starbucks. We’re doing fine. Why do we need change? We’d have to hire a sitter, I’d have to work extra shifts, we’d be  _ nowhere _ near home--”   
  
“Don’t you want me to make it Broadway one day--”   
  
“I just don’t get why you’d spring this on me in the  _ bathtub-- _ ”   
  
“You were in a good mood, I thought--”   
  
“I’m always in a good mood!”   
  
“Kevin, seriously? Be realistic.”   
  
“I was gonna ask you if we could have another baby!”   
  
He doesn’t know why he just blurts it out like that, in the bathtub, but then he’s reaching for a towel and rising to his feet and not even looking over his shoulder as he angrily dries off beside his husband, still in the tub.   
  
“What?” Now it was Connor’s turn to be confused.

Hardly looking over his shoulder, Kevin lets out his pent out rage and shame, feeling his whole body burn and tremble and quake with every whimper that passes through his lips.   
  
“We never have sex anymore. You romance me in a fucking tub and when we get to the bedroom you don’t fuck me anymore. I hate it. And I really,  _ really _ have wanted another baby. I thought we could settle down, now. I thought you would want that.”   
  
“You want another baby.” Connor repeats, slowly.   
  
“Yes, what did I just--”   
  
“Is something wrong with Fae?”   
  
Kevin sobs, cracking down as Connor struggles to comprehend what Kevin’s asking of him. 

“Nothing is wrong with Fae! Nothing is wrong with me, either, you fucking  _ suck _ ,” Kevin snaps, “You think something’s wrong with me.”   
  
“Did you go off your meds? I don’t understand--”   
  
“Why is this always about the meds? Jesus christ, Connor,  _ yes _ , I don’t take my meds anymore, because I am perfectly fine--”   
  
“You can’t just do that without telling the doctor--”   
  
“Why won’t you love me anymore?”

Kevin stares, steely into Connor’s eyes. Piercing through. Connor looks wounded again, his eyes are red and watery and his face has gone soft again. And then Kevin knows he’s gone too far.

Connor’s voice cracks, his teeth chattering from the cold water that engulfs the lower half of his body, “Why do you keep accusing me of that? I’m doing this for  _ us. _ I thought we could have a new start.”   
  
“Everyone keeps telling me that you don’t love me anymore. They can see it.”  
  
With a knowing glint, Connor has it figured out, he seems. His upset turns into sheer disappointment, and he reaches for his towel to get up and dry off as well. He does so silently, brushing past Kevin to head into the bedroom the moment Kevin’s chest begins to heave in and out and he feels the anxiety build,  _ build _ ,  _ build _ inside of his bones and lungs, filling him with air and rendering him speechless.   
  
“Everyone meaning the parents you told me you weren’t seeing? I get it now.”

Shaking an accusatory finger, Kevin follows him back in, his eyes narrowed with fury.  
  
“You can’t tell me who I can or cannot visit! I wanted to see my sister, I got what I wanted.”   
  
“And your mom, and your brothers, and the man who abused you right in front of me!” Connor snaps, turning on his heels to face him.

Kevin’s eyes grow wide, and he backs up as Connor dissolves into his own rant, getting right in Kevin’s face. Kevin’s certain he’s never seen his husband so angry, so derided and infuriated, and Connor’s voice raises to just nearly a shout of unadulterated rage.   
  
“He hit you, Kevin! He fucking hit you, who knows how many more times that you aren’t telling me! And I will never fucking forgive myself for letting you step in the way, because I wish it had been me, because I  _ love _ you, you jerk.  _ You _ suck, Kevin.  _ You _ suck! And you have postpartum, and PTSD, and you need help, and I nearly fucking watched you  _ die _ , and when you woke up the only thing you could say to me was how mad you were that I named our child that almost died too, okay? Am I fucking enough yet, Kevin?”

Kevin twitches, convulsing as Connor realizes the weight of his outburst. He reaches out to touch Kevin, his gaze apologetic and yearning, but Kevin flinches back, before bursting into laughter.

He doesn’t know why he laughs, because then he’s crying, and still cackling with a sort of manic energy that unnerves his husband and makes him too recede back into himself, all moony-eyed and pale and nervous as ever.  
  
“I’m okay,” Kevin chuckles, “It’s fine. Thanks for sharing with me.”

He bumps shoulders with Connor as he shuffles over to the dresser to pull on a pair of boxers. He pushes one foot in, and then the other, and shimmies his hips a bit to pull them all the way up. He can’t even bear to look at Connor like this. The wrong emotions are stirring in his gut, inappropriate, and wrong.  
  
Does he like this? Does he like being yelled at, and told what to do?   
  
It’s what a fairy would do. So Kevin will be a fucking fairy, for once.  
  
“I’ll take the couch,” he says, “Goodnight.”   
  
“Kevin, I didn’t mean that--”   
  
“You did. It’s fine. We’ll move to upstate New York. To  _ Albany. _ You’ll have my undivided attention, you’re the alpha, after all, I don’t matter--”   
  
“You know that’s not what I--”

Kevin crashes their lips together, clutching onto Connor’s face like a lifeline. Maybe he was hoping for passion. For love. For  _ something _ . Anything. Connor moans underneath his touch, his fingers curling into Kevin’s wrists.

“Fuck me. Like we used to.” Kevin pleads.   
  
“Okay.” Connor rasps.   
  
This is dangerously unhealthy. The way they fight, the way that Kevin throws a tantrum and Connor boils over and then they either get what they want or they don’t. Connor’s hands move from his wrist to cup the back of Kevin’s neck when he tries to pull away, and soon enough they’re backed up against the wall, moaning and cupping and groaning before Connor chocks up enough courage to finally move them to the bed.

It’s not as fantastic as perhaps Kevin had hoped and dreamed it would be. It’s just okay, really. The passion is gone, and Kevin’s left feeling more empty and distant than before. They’re on the opposite sides of the bed, their backs turned to each other, once it’s all been said and done. Through their bond, he feels the shame.

Connor is ashamed in Kevin. And he ought to be.   
  
“Goodnight.” Kevin croaks, from his side of the bed.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Connor miserably replies, “Okay?”

Kevin bathes in the silence of the room. The ceiling fan is whirring in the background, and Connor’s pink bedroom is so dark and dismal at this time of the evening. It’s so late. He wonders if Connor’s mom heard them fighting. Of course she did, he doesn’t even need to wonder.    
  
It feels so cold, when the sheets are hot and Kevin is hot and sticky and he feels the excess roll down between his legs. It’s probably so wrong he had hoped he’d get laid. He’d gone so long without it, with Connor working so hard and Kevin taking on shifts at Starbucks again.

Still, he thought they were doing okay. He guesses not. Connor is never so still, which means he is still awake, probably nibbling on his thumbnail with his teeth like he does when he’s trying not to cry.

“Are you mad at me?” Kevin says. “I’m sorry.”

Connor sighs.   
  
“No; I’m not.”   
  
After another long, painful silence, Connor works up the courage to ask, his voice ever so small, “Hey Kevin?”

Opening his eyes, Kevin finds himself staring at the curtains hushingly ghosting back and forth with the light breeze circulating through the window.    
  
“...yeah?”   
  
“Do you think the reason you keep wanting a baby… and forgive me for saying so, is the same reason you suddenly want to see your family again?”   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
“Do you think you keep wanting a big, Mormon family somewhere in the back of your mind, and you just don’t know how to achieve that without your parents somewhere in the picture?”

Kevin swallows, closing his eyes again.  
  
“I don’t know. Goodnight.”   
  
Connor rolls over, wrapping his arms around Kevin’s stomach warmly. His nose presses into Kevin’s bare shoulder blade, awfully cold against the warmth of his skin. Still, it feels peaceful, if only for a moment.  
  
“You’re still beautiful to me, okay?” Connor whispers, “We can get through this. We can do this together.”   


Kevin does not sleep that night. He listens to Connor’s breathing slow, feels his chest rise and fall from where he’s snuggled up against his hip. This is  _ his _ man.  _ His _ husband.  
  
And yet, he feels as if he’s already betrayed him a tenfold.


	5. PART ONE: Chapter 5

Albany is surprisingly very good for them.

It’s not just good for them, it’s great for them. Even if Kevin complains on the flight and Fae cries the whole time and Connor doesn’t get a wink of sleep, it’s different, and new, and shockingly enough, wonderful.

“It’s just for a year,” Connor tells him when they pack up their life in Utah to leave behind, “We’ll be back for the holidays and then we’ll see what comes next.”

Their two-bedroom apartment is quaint and small, right in the heart of the city. His first project is painting the walls. Their bedroom (and Fae’s) are pink, and the rest of the house a nice jade. When Arnold flies in to visit, he says it’s “Like a Wicked house!” and Connor laughs, and really, that’s all that matters, is the two people he loves most near him and his baby and the hum of the city life. In all actuality, Kevin can’t go without it now.

It’s the highest point of his life up until then, really. They settle into a routine. Starbucks is kind enough to move his post to the one a few blocks down. Fae has a regular babysitter. The rhythmic movement of his day-to-day life lulls him in and out in a trance-like syncopation. It prepares him, really, because one day Connor will be on _ Broadway _ and they’ll live in  _ New York _ and the noise pollution there will be far worse than  _ Albany _ .

“It’ll be our seven year anniversary in three years.” Kevin says, “Can we renew our vows and have a real wedding then?”   
  
“That’s three years away. That’s a long time from now.”   
  
“Fae will be old enough to be the flower girl. Don’t you want me to walk down the aisle one day?” Kevin replies, coy and teasing. 

He prods his fingers into Connor’s neck, and then massages it after a long night of rehearsals. Connor sighs and melts into his touch as Kevin undoes his muscles, working deep into his skin. Kevin licks his lips, before smacking a hot kiss on his husband’s cheek. His lips pop with the contact, and Connor jolts in startle, leaving Kevin to snicker and continue to pepper the kisses down his collarbone.  
  
Like usual, it turns from massages to something else, and soon they’re backed up against a wall laughing and kissing and  _ touching _ until they’re all spent out for the night.  
  
The next day is work, child care, and facetimes with Connor’s mom and Arnold. It’s a bit of a pattern. He takes Fae shopping. She’s two now, and old enough that she babbles half-words and squeaks and points at things and bumps into many, many hard surfaces. The little ones are always so darn fast. Her hair is a very pale red right now, strawberry blonde even, but it’ll darken with age and turn a rich auburn. Her eyes are very brown, very stubbornly -Price.    
  
She’s so much like Connor. Like both of them really, but her giggling is infectiously Connor’s from the crinkling of her nose to the blatant snorting with each laugh. It’s intoxicating to Kevin, grounds him back on what’s really important. Him, and Connor, and Fae. They’re his whole world.  
  
At a show, an old man leans in to Kevin during Connor’s solo and whispers, “That kid’s going to Broadway.”   
  
“That’s my husband.” Kevin beams, “I’ll tell him that.”

Opening night, he bombards Connor with flowers, and teases him when he yawns and truly looks exhausted.   
  
“Beautiful.” he says, “But you’re the better present.”  
  
If Connor wanted to get laid that night,  _ well _ , he certainly got what he wanted, and hickeys to prove it in the most unobvious of places, and Kevin wakes up with a toothy, smarmy grin on his face when Connor finds them in the mirror the next morning.   
  
“You’re the worst!” Connor gasps, smoothing his fingers over a particularly dark mark on his hip. 

Kevin smiles, and gives his ass a smack. Connor hiccups at the contact, rolling his eyes playfully as he pulls Kevin in for another smooch.  
  
“Am I?” Kevin asks, pecking him prudely, “I thought  _ I _ was the better present.”

That was the peak of it all. Nothing was impossible, then, just the two of them, and Fae, and  _ Albany, New York _ to make up for the lost time and the pain and the heartbreak. Their marriage would last forever, wouldn’t it? Love had withstood all their tears and broken hearts and fights.  
  
Kevin still gets letters from his mom, and he still writes them. Connor doesn’t like it, but it’s less of a stink than when he  _ physically _ visited her back in Utah without telling him.

Connor isn’t home when a copy of  _ The Book of Mormon _ plops in the mail.

He eyes it curiously, and then a bit bitterly, and then he almost throws it in the trash.   
  
Then he sees his dad sent it.

 

_ Please go to church sometime. Any church. It might help. _

 

“Help with what?” he sneers aloud, crumpling up the paper and dropping it into the trash bin. 

 

For whatever reason, he keeps the book, stuffing it under his pillow. He thought, maybe he’d tell Connor, and have a good laugh and a good beer.

 

“We can have another baby soon,” Connor had told him last night, “When we have a bit more money. If that’s what you want?”

 

“I wanna have a heat.” Kevin replied, feeling nothing short of overjoyed, “You’d let me?”

 

Years later, he wishes he hadn’t kept it under his pillow. He should have burned it in the fireplace, laughing as the cinders and ash rose through the pipe and he left that chapter of his life smoldering in ashes and flame.  
  
But he doesn’t. He keeps the book, and he closes the door on Connor.

  
.::.

 

The Albany Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is a little bit out of the way of his busy downtown apartment building. In fact, it’s a lot of a far way out of his way, and it’s weirdly rural compared to the socialite, urbanesque of the city. Sunday morning is cloudy and damp, with gray cast skies and a quiet hum of rain hitting the windshield when he rolls up. It’s spotted and speckled in his front window. He sits there for a long while, watching churchgoers exit their cars with their umbrellas, before he turns off the gas and pockets his keys.

His shoes get in the mud and the grass is covered in dew and the thunder cracks in the distance, like some terrible, terrible omen. 

Of course, Connor is at a show, he has no idea Kevin is here.

He should be revolted when he takes his seat in the back and the stained glass windows of Jesus shine in from every corner. He pulls out his copy of the book. He gently, softly sings along to the hymns, and prays. 

He doesn’t think much of it after that, especially when he drives home. He just feels numb. 

“I made a mistake.” he tells himself, “That was dumb.”   
  
While Connor sleeps that night, he reaches underneath his pillow for the book, and reads by the filtered yellow light of their nightstand.   
  
“Go to sleeeep,” Connor moans, covering his head with the pillow.   
  
“Sorry, sorry. Goodnight.” Kevin whispers, and turns the light off.

 

.::.

 

At dinner the next day, he can’t even stomach eating anything. He stares at his plate absentmindedly, prodding at it with his fork as Fae babbles and fusses with her spoonfuls of mashed potatoes.

Being a liar burns, and it burns deep.

“Kevin, you keep picking at your food.” Connor says.

“I’m not hungry.” Kevin replies.

 

.::.

 

Kevin never really,  _ really _ stopped believing in God. He had doubt He existed of course, and he certainly scoffed in the face of  _ born-again Christians _ , but if born-again Mormons are a thing, he supposes that’s what he is.  
  
He throws himself back into religious text behind Connor’s back, dreading the consequences but feeling giddy about the relief he gets every Sunday from the comfort of the Church’s arms. He goes alone, of course, when Connor is busy and is back before he could possibly get home so he can hide his copy of the Book back into his pillow case.

It’s odd that he finds comfort in it, even if he’s not sure he really believes it, but he can close his eyes and zone out and dream; of the huts in Uganda, of Connor and Kevin’s first “date”, of becoming Arnold’s friend. He can block out the bad memories and remember when things were not just good, they were  _ fantastic _ , when the heat forced them to use their imagination and be creative in a desolate location. The people there, he misses the most. That was earthy, real,  _ raw _ , and his childhood wasn’t so frightening to him there as it had been when they were grounded back in Utah. 

 

.::.

 

“Your hair isn’t soft anymore. Are you sure you’re eating well?” Connor asks.   
  
“I’m fine.” Kevin lies.

 

.::.

 

Their fifth mission anniversary comes and goes. Everyone at the table is happy and smiling authentically, but Kevin’s feels fake. He’s a fraud at a table full of joyous individuals, and he’s the only one super unhappy.  
  
“Your hair has gotten long,” Davis tells him at the punchbowl, “I thought you were a clean-cut kind of guy.”   
  
“Having a kid takes it out of you, huh?” Schrader says in the lobby.

“You look like you’re coming down with a fever.” Michaels chimes in as they wait for their meals.

“I’m fine,” he insists, like a broken record.

Kevin throws up privately in the bathroom, overwhelmed by all the commentary and happy couples with their husbands and wives and he sinks to his knees and braces himself.  
  
His stomach scar burns, and so do his arms, and he jerks his hands back when he realizes he’d been scratching his wrists. Then, he puts on his best fake smile, combs his hair out, and beams that Missionary glow that he’s lost long ago.

 

.::.

 

The pregnancy test comes back negative. Both he and Connor look disappointed. There was no heat, but they had really, really hoped that the last time they’d had sex would copulate into a baby.

“Do you think the doctors made me infertile?” Kevin frets, “I mean, they did have to slice me open when I had Fae.”   
  
“Don’t be silly. It just isn’t time, I guess. This is a sign.”   
  
“Heavenly Father be damned,” Kevin laughs, but the laugh falls short when Connor gives him a puzzled look.  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Connor says, his eyes narrow with suspicion. 

“I… made a joke.”   
  
“Okay.”

Connor doesn’t believe him. Whatever. Kevin pouts, folding his arms over his chest as Connor looks him over.

  
“Relax,” Connor sighs, “I won’t look too deeply into it, okay?”

“Thanks.” Kevin glumly mumbles back.

They don’t speak for the rest of the day.

 

.::.

 

His therapist takes lots of notes on Kevin’s childhood. It’s psychologically wound opening, Kevin finds. The more he talks about it, the more disgusted with himself he feels.

“So why are you going to church?” his therapist asks.  
  
“To heal.” Kevin says, “I want my family to accept me again.”   
  
“Sounds like the family that matters-- your husband and daughter-- already do.”

Kevin rolls his eyes, and changes therapists.

They don’t understand. Nobody does.

They don’t get it. The deep scars in his stomach run deep, and it’s poisoned his heart. He is poisoned. He is broken. He needs healing, he needs his mom to love him again. He wants to see Debbie, hear her laughter and see her smile. She’s in college now, but she’s been forbidden to see him unless he  _ repents. _

And Kevin is tired. He closes his eyes, and waits.

 

.::.

 

Connor’s dad died when he was an infant. Some horrible thing happened, that Connor’s mom doesn’t talk about. He insists it doesn’t matter, that his heart doesn’t ache for what he’s never known.

But he says it’s enough reason that he and Kevin  _ have _ to be present for Fae. He smiles a broken smile. They’re both broken, in different ways. Connor’s seen horrible things happen to Kevin. The birth of Fae traumatized him, Kevin knows this, and the diagnosis of  _ severe depression _ and  _ PTSD _ on his husband’s transcript make him feel like he has to shield Kevin, putting up yellow caution tape around his heart and the household in every instance. He’s suspicious, he’s hurting.

He’s  _ loving _ .

And Kevin loves him. But each year, some weird detachment between them grows further, and further, and the fights and the screaming get worse, and it ends in both of them apologizing and crying and sleeping on opposite ends of the bed more and more frequently.

Albany was supposed to fix them. It did, for a while. They felt better for about 3 months. But then something just, tears apart, splintering an emotional abyss between them that neither dare to cross. Connor is too protective, and Kevin is too secretive, keeping his churchgoing life in complete darkness. Connor can’t figure him out; he doesn’t understand, and Kevin doesn’t want him to.  
  
“Where do you go on Sundays?” Connor cries one day, “The bar?”   
  
“No. I just go walking in the park.”   
  
“You said that last week and you weren’t at the park!” Connor snaps, on the verge of actual tears. He’s swaying dangerously, weakly, as if he’s teetering on the brink of collapsing over himself. It’s horrible to watch. Kevin regrets the lies, he wishes he could take it back and reverse digging himself in the hole he’s in now.

But if he tells him, he’ll lose Connor forever. He’s certain of it, even if it’s fucking ridiculous a notion.   
  
“Connor--”   
  
“No! Don’t  _ Connor _ me, you’re acting fucking strange and I don’t  _ get  _ it. I’m gonna figure it out, because if you wanna lie to me, I will find out! I will… I will find out…”

He breaks down into tears, sinking to his knees. Kevin sits there, frozen, as Connor bawls. It’s heart wrenching to listen to. Connor’s right, Kevin is a dirty, dirty liar.

And he’s gonna keep lying to him, even as Connor sits here begging for answers, his eyes red and his face twisted up with so much pain. Kevin swallows, sniffling and wiping his own tears out of his eyes.

“I love you so much, I don’t understand-- things were going so good, and you promised we’d be honest with each other.” Connor sobs.

In a split second, Kevin decides to make a bad mistake.  
  
“I’ve been baby shopping, Connor,” Kevin lies, bracing himself for Connor’s meltdown to get worse, “I think I’m pregnant, okay? Please stop crying.”   
  
“You-- you what?”   
  
Connor sounds so hopeful, and his eyes are so big and round and mooney, as if the storm has passed and now there’s just that quiet eye of peace. Kevin closes his eyes.  
  
“I think I could be pregnant. I don’t know yet. I haven’t bothered with a test. I threw up the other morning, remember? I really want another baby. I think it’s… I think there’s a good chance I’m pregnant.”

“Oh… oh, Kevin,” Connor whimpers, wrapping his arms around Kevin’s waist. He sobs again, his shoulders wracking as he buries his face in Kevin’s stomach, kissing and crying. Kevin lets his chin quiver, and he brushes his fingers through Connor’s hair.   
  
“I’m sorry. I’ve been looking at baby clothes. Dreaming of us being a team of four. Wandering around Target. That’s what I’ve been doing,” Kevin lies.   


“I shouldn’t have gotten angry, I thought--  _ fuck _ , I’m so stupid.”   
  
“You’re not stupid. I should’ve told you what I was doing. I knew you were worried someone had hurt me. I’m okay. I switched therapists, the last one was making me really depressed, I needed a change, it’s gonna be okay. I have to adjust. Connor? Are you okay?”  
  
Connor’s sobs are muffled, and his tears are soaking Kevin’s shirt. He just keeps stroking Connor’s red hair, hoping,  _ praying _ Connor will forget this whole thing by tomorrow.  
  
Tomorrow will be another day. Kevin just has to believe it.

 

.::.

 

His book is missing.

He goes to Church without it, feeling naked and bare. When he returns, Connor isn’t home, and neither is Fae. It’s awfully quiet. He tears the apartment apart basically, searching for it, and cries when he cannot find it.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Connor asks, when he finally makes his way home.   
  
“Nothing,” Kevin says sullenly. 

Connor smiles at him, and pats his knee. He scoots beside him on the couch, cupping his cheeks and resting their foreheads together.  
  
“You can be honest with me, Kevin. What’s bothering you?”   
  
“I’m just moody.” Kevin mumbles.  
  
“You are, huh? Maybe I’ll just have to fix that. Why don’t we go out to eat?”   


“M’not hungry. And you look tired.”

“You make me worry,” Connor says, and pulls away with a yawn.

He plops beside him on the couch, and rolls down to rest his head on Kevin’s knees. Kevin strokes his fingers through Connor’s soft, soft hair.  
  
“You shouldn’t. I’m okay.” Kevin insists.  
  
“If you say so, dear.” Connor replies.

Kevin really,  _ really _ wasn’t okay.

 

.::.

 

A week goes by, and he does not find his Book of Mormon anywhere. Anxiously, he searches one more time for it, until Connor stops him in the hallway.

“I found your fucking book.” Connor says, when Kevin scrambles to find it before church on Sunday. His voice sounds strained, broken even.

Kevin’s heart about freezes in place.

“Where did you put it?”   
  
“Are you Mormon again?” Connor says, his voice low and steely. He looks like he’s been crying, a whole lot, but there’s no emotion in his face.

Kevin pauses. Connor pushes it again.   
  
“You are, aren’t you? You’re not pregnant. You lied to me.”

Coldly, Kevin laughs, and he laughs until he’s crying.   
  
“Yeah, I guess I did.”

Connor laughs too, even icier than Kevin, and he isn’t crying.  
  
“Un-fucking-believable.”   
  
Kevin reaches out to touch him, but Connor pulls back, a look of utter disgust on his face.  
  
“You don’t even think about our kid, when you do this, huh? What happened to us? What happened to our team?”   
  
He doesn’t have anything to say back. He buries his face in his hands.   
  
“Sometimes I want to believe I married a good person. I really do. We were supposed to be a team. And for a moment, you got me real excited.”

Through their bond, Kevin can feel the love and anguish in all of Connor’s words. They conflict and clash and through his fingers he can see Connor’s body shaking, badly.  
  
“I would die for you, you know that? I don’t think you’d do the same for me. I thought we were having another kid. I even bought baby clothes, it was gonna be a surprise for your birthday. I was hoping for a boy. But I guess you always hated that Fae wasn’t one. Because I got tests done--”   
  
“You what?” Kevin says, feeling utterly betrayed. Connor looks down at him with disdain.

“She’s an omega, Kevin. She’s just like you. That’s why you hate her, right--”   
  
“ _ No-- _ ”   
  
“You hate her because I named her  _ fairy _ , and because you hate yourself. That’s really what it is, I know you hate saying her name--”   
  
“I love our baby--”   
  
“Do you, Kevin?” Connor hisses, “Do you love her? You hardly care for yourself anymore, let alone her. You disappoint me. I’m taking the couch tonight, goodnight.”

He turns on his heel, but Kevin tries to stop him.   
  
“Connor--”   


“Shut  _ up! _ ” Connor sobs, “Just shut up, Kevin, before you break my goddamn heart any further.” 

Kevin sinks to the floor, curling around himself into a ball. He wishes he could squeeze so tight he’d disappear, his eyes closed and his body so small and so weak, and he would just  **poof** and be gone, in a pinch of fairy dust and falling stars would streak across the sky to scoop his limp form up and carry him away. It just doesn’t happen that way. It never will.

No one loves him, anymore. Not even himself.

 

.::.

 

They fly home for Christmas break.

It’s supposed to be a happy occasion, but the moment they step off the plane, they’re fighting, back and forth, in front of Connor’s mom and sister, in front of their friends, in front of everyone.

It had been this way for a while, and they’re supposed to be working this out, and soon enough Fae is screaming and crying with them. She’s only a toddler, and Connor starts taking her away from him, until Kevin just…  _ boils _ over in rage.

“She’s my kid too!” Kevin screeches, “You aren’t a perfect parent, either!”   
  
“You’re scaring her! You’re acting like  _ your _ fucking dad!” Connor snaps back, holding his hands over her ears.

“Boys, please.” Connor’s mom attempts to intervene in vain, and Kevin could never bring himself to yell at her, so he takes it out on Connor instead.  
  
“You have this fucked up idea that I hate the kid  _ I _ gave birth to, when she’s my everything! You can’t just keep her from me because  _ you _ hate me! You wouldn’t even care if I were gone!”

“Then fucking go!” Connor snaps.  
  
Kevin grits his teeth, and turns to the door. He guesses Connor didn’t expect him to actually leave, because as soon as he swings the front door open, Connor’s chasing after him.  
  
“Kevin, stop it! Stop it!”   
  
“What? What the fuck do you want?” Kevin screams, on the verge of a meltdown, “You keep me from my family, my faith, now my fucking kid, what more do you want from me? I lost  **everything** for you! My virginity, my wedding, my firstborn child, and I lost everything! So fuck you!”

Connor gives him a look of pure bewilderment and fright. Kevin’s not sure he’s ever seen Connor make this face before, but it terrifies and thrills him all at once.

Kevin has power.

Kevin’s the  _ alpha. _

“Kevin, I’m gonna call 911 if you run away right now. You are acting  _ crazy! _ There is something wrong with you!”   
  
“Yeah, you’re right, you’re what’s wrong with me! I can’t fucking get rid of you! You just  _ told me to go, _ genius, so I’m going,” Kevin replies, shoving Connor away from him, “and you’re not the boss of me, I’m an adult.”

“I hate you!” Connor screeches, “You ruined my life!”   
  
“Good, because you ruined mine! Fuck you!” 

“I hope you never come back!”   
  
“Good, because I won’t be back! Don’t come haul ass to me when Fae has an asthma attack and you don’t know what to do because you’re, need I remind you,  _ never _ home and  _ never _ there for her! Find some other omega to knock up!”   
  
Connor does not call 911, not even as Kevin shoves past him out the door and drives away without even telling him where he’s going. His bond mark stings and aches with the pain of Connor’s tears, which he can see vaguely flash across his vision as he tries to drive safely to his parents’ home.

That was the last Christmas he ever spent with Connor.  
  
And little did he know, the last day he would spend with Connor at all.

He sleeps in his childhood bed on Christmas Eve. His parents are surprisingly kind, almost  _ too _ kind to him. He closes his eyes, and prays for sleep. It does not come.

 

.::.

 

Connor leaves him approximately 48 text messages, five voicemails, and 70 calls trying to reach him for the next three days, increasingly more panicked than the last. He spends Christmas day hidden under the covers of his childhood duvet, surrounded by Disney character posters and the soft words of his mother and sister. 

He hides in his house, he hides in his room, listens as Connor comes to the house and pleads. He sits at the top of the stairs, as Connor breaks down into tears in front of his sister who’s the only one who bothers answering the constant doorbell.   
  
“We have a toddler at home who’s asking for her dad-- please, please tell him I love him and I want him to come home,” he tells Debbie, who’s unfortunate to answer the door. 

She looks back up the stairs for Kevin’s help. He shakes his head no, and she does the same.

“He’s not available right now.”   
  
“I know he’s right there. Come on, Debbie, please, I’m your brother in law--”   
  
“I want a divorce.” Kevin sobs, from upstairs, “Go away, Connor--”   
  
“Can you please come see Fae? She wants you to tuck her in. Please, Kevin, she won’t stop crying. She wants you. You were right. You were right, okay? You’re scaring me.”   
  
“Please watch your tone,” Debbie says, her voice cracking, “or I’ll call my parents.”   
  
Connor backs off, his feelings so strong and intense through their bond. Kevin rubs his mark with his thumb, wincing from the pain.

_ Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! _ He snarls through their bond, knowing Connor can hear him,  _ Go away! For the love of Heavenly Father, go away! _

_ You’re making a mistake. _ Connor brokenly pleads,  _ Please come home. I miss you. Fae is so freaked out. _

_ File the fucking papers and get out of my life. _

Connor bursts into sobs, then, desperate to reach Kevin, to shake some sense into him, to get him to come home, do  _ anything  _ but what he’s doing right now. He tries to push past Debbie, but his sister is so much more stubborn than Kevin took her for, and she shoves him back, grasping him by the shoulders and keeping him grounded in place no matter how he tries to shake her off.  
  
“I don’t hate you,” Debbie says, “but you need to go before someone calls the cops on you. That baby doesn’t need you to go to jail for trespassing. Be smart.”

“Then why won’t you let me see him?” Connor wails, “Please. Please have some pity.”

“I can’t decide that for him,” Debbie replies, her voice tight and low, “You two can reconcile when he wants to see you.”   
  
Connor leaves shortly thereafter, and Kevin goes back to bed and back to sleep. He’s all alone now,  _ really _ . There is no going back from that for them.


	6. PART ONE: Chapter 6

Kevin’s parents put him in a program on New Year’s Eve, for omegas transitioning through a divorce.    
  
At least, that’s what they tell him it’s for. A therapist taps his pen across his clipboard, writing down every implicit detail of the  _ homosexual sins _ Kevin has committed.  
  
“Don’t worry. You’ll be  _ fixed _ by the end of this program,” Mr. Price says, “You’ll be my son again.”   
  
Connor is not allowed near the house. Fae isn’t either, even when Kevin changes his mind and argues with his parents over her presence. They shake their head, and reassure him  _ Heavenly Father has a plan _ , and that the  _ bastard _ is better off without him.   
The therapist smiles his ratty, greedy smile, and his pen taps against the clipboard, and Kevin convinces himself this is a part of the healing process, and he’ll be okay again soon. He’s hurting, because it’ll be over soon, but he’ll have his family and his childhood back and he can pretend he was okay to begin with.

Very, very soon.

 

.::.

 

Connor doesn’t want a divorce. He wants to keep trying. Even when his parents argue with Connor and the lawyer, Connor keeps his foot down.  
  
“Kevin needs a psychiatrist.” Connor says, “He needs  _ help _ , he’s sick--”   
  
“You think my son is sick?” Mr. Price says, “You’re right. You made him sick. You made him homosexual.”   
  
Connor rolls his eyes so hard, and stares right at Kevin, who is painfully silent and scratching his arm.  
  
“Yeah, like I don’t know you’re smacking him around right now behind the scenes. I can feel everything you do to him.”   
  
“He doesn’t like men. You seduced him,” Mr. Price coos.

His husband laughs. He’s the only one, and it dies down slowly as he realizes Kevin isn’t joining in. Kevin shuffles uncomfortably in his seat.

“Kevin, you don’t actually believe this, do you?”   
  
“Sign the papers.” Kevin croaks.

“Kevin--”   
  
“You heard him.” Mr. Price says.   
  
“We have a beautiful, beautiful little girl who’s wondering where her daddy is…”   
  
Kevin wipes his eyes on his sleeve, unable to meet Connor’s gaze. Connor has this big dopey grin, comfortingly, protectively. He’s trying to reach him, in any way he can, prove he’s not the villain, that he’s there for Kevin, like they’ve never fought before. Like he hasn’t watched Kevin bare his soul and break down and lose control of his life. He reaches out a hand to touch Kevin’s knee, despite the warning glares from Kevin’s parents. 

But Kevin can’t look. It’s forbidden. He can’t feel anything, he’s not allowed to feel, anymore. He mournfully shudders, his lips quivering as he forces himself not to look Connor’s way, even when in the periphery of his vision he can see Connor scooting closer, his husband so near and affectionate.

Everything in Kevin’s bones and muscles screams for him to leap into Connor’s arms and hug him close and hold tight and  _ never _ to let go again. He wants to go home. He wants his husband, and his daughter, and he wants to go back to Albany and try again.

But the rational part, his brain, screams for him to resist, because it’s wrong, because whenever they’re together, all they do is fight and scream and hurt each other emotionally, and every year, it gets worse and worse, and one day, one of them will get burned badly from it, and Kevin has a feeling it’ll be himself.

It has to come to an end.  
  
He goes to church and prays every Sunday, for his soul, for Connor’s, for Fae’s, that they’ll understand why he had to go away. Why he had to leave, and go away, and not come back ever again.  
  
Even if he doesn’t want to.

“Fae keeps asking,  _ when’s daddy coming home? _ She’s getting so big. She’s almost three, isn’t that amazing? Remember her first words, Kevin? It was you. She said,  _ dada _ , and that was you, because I’m  _ papa. _ Don’t you remember that? You cried when she first started to walk, you held her hands when she took her first steps. We’ve been married almost three years, together for about 5 now. We’re survivors. We made it so far. We can get you help. It won’t be the same, but we can do this for her. Don’t you want to try?”   
  
“Kevin is in a program,” Mr. Price interrupts, “He doesn’t need your help.”   
  
“Program?” Connor echoes, “Oh please, what is it, conversion therapy for grown-ups?”   
  
The fact that Kevin can’t catch Connor’s gaze speaks volumes. Slowly, Connor begins to grow horrified, his smile faltering and his sarcasm dissipating at the very mention of Kevin’s unfortunate situation.

“Kevin, seriously. That’s not  _ okay-- _ is it true? Are you trying to-- to turn  _ straight? _ ”   
  
Kevin remains silent. Connor is getting angry, his jaw popped open in disbelief as he looks from Kevin’s parents, to the lawyers, to his husband again.  
  
“Are they making you do this? Kevin. Say something.”

“No,” Kevin lies. 

He was never good at the  _ lying _ thing, and Connor always catches him, with a glint in his eyes and a tight jaw and hurt underlying his demeanor.

“Kevin. This is your chance. I can help you.”   
  
Kevin starts to cry, and he shakes his head back and forth.   
  
“It’s the right thing to do,” Kevin whimpers, “For her. If I’m not involved in her life.”

“You can’t possibly believe that. This sounds scripted.” Connor says.

“I have to believe it. I failed her. I’m standing in the way of her happiness, don’t you get it Connor? We have to say goodbye, now. We have to sign the papers.”   
  
“The Kevin I know isn’t a quitter. He goes after what he wants, adamantly, and he’s learned in the face of failure there’s other ways to find the resolution he seeks. You’ve grown so much as a person, honey, you can’t just be throwing what we’ve got away.”   
  
“Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

The tears bubble over, and he finally catches Connor’s gaze. He pushes Connor’s hand off of his knee, which Connor clutches to his chest like Kevin had wounded it.

“Please. You’re making a mistake.” 

“Then let me make a mistake and be miserable, okay? Sign the papers, Connor.”   
  
Distraught, Connor shakes his head. Nothing but disdain washes through their bond, and deep and utter disappointment. That’s all Kevin ever is. A disappointment.   
  
He might as well live up to Connor’s expectations.  
  
“I love you.” Connor croaks, “Please don’t do this. You shouldn’t be hating yourself, so much.”

When it’s all said and done, and they get into the car, Kevin’s mom is crying, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin, and whispering hushedly to her husband. They keep looking back at Kevin in the car, who keeps fiddling with his sleeve anxiously.

“You did the right thing, son,” Mr. Price says as they pull away, “You’re going to be baptized back into the church, and we’ll find your place soon enough.”

 

.::.

 

The therapist tells him he’s doing a good job. He shows him ways to cope, ways to turn it all back off again, and to disappear back into the world of safety. Of straightness.

“You can still have an alpha woman,” the therapist says, “To help you.”   
  
“I don’t want to be married. I think I just... want to be me.” 

The therapist laughs, and writes something down, and Kevin shuffles uncomfortably.

“Regardless of that-- would you show me again?” Kevin asks, “Show me how to stop feeling  _ this  _ again?”  
  
The therapist smiles.

 

.::.

 

He does indeed throw himself back into his biblical studies. He becomes a zombie, waiting for the divorce to file through, waiting for Connor to stop his nagging. Connor leaves the Albany company to come home, pleading through his bond for Kevin to run away, to change his mind.

_ I’ll break the bond if you don’t shut up and leave me alone, _ Kevin snarls,  _ Your voice is grating. _

_ So you do hear me then? _ Connor replies,  _ Look at Fae through my eyes. Look at her. She’s beautiful. _

_ I don’t want to look at her. _

_ You ought to. We went to the botanical gardens today. I bought her a flower crown. I have pictures I can send you of her in the Salt Lake children’s museum. Being a single dad is hard. I have to devote my life to her now. She misses you. She asks about you. _

_ Find a new omega, _ Kevin snaps,  _ Leave me out of it. _

_ I will never give up on you, Kevin, whether you want me to or not, _ Connor chastises,  _ she will always be asking for you. She will always know who you are, even if you forget yourself. _

_ My body's a Temple for Heavenly Father and soon enough it will be cleansed of sin. One day I won’t even remember you touching me. Ever. Again. _

_ Is this Kevin McKinley speaking, or the church? _ _   
_ _   
_ __ My name is Kevin  Price.  
  
The rest of the day, Connor is silent, and Kevin returns to his copy of the book, praying for answers that are unheard by the Lord himself. He wonders, why him? Why was he cursed with such a confusing and conflicting life? He is baptized back in, freed from sin, and the papers arrive,  **signed** , a few weeks after.

 

.::.

 

The idea of even sleeping with a man starts to revolt Kevin with every single therapy visit. They’re fixing him. All memories of Connor touching him, holding him, making him feel  _ sin _ , are replaced with anger, and hurt, and fear, and Kevin clamps his hands over his ears at the very sound of Connor’s voice in his head.   
  
_ I’m not like that anymore, Connor, stop bothering me. _

He pleads with him, finding himself curled up on his side in his bedroom with his arms tucked up around his stomach. He cries and groans and shakes and wishes Connor would get out of his head. That he had broken the bond, and disappeared forever, and no one would bother him again.

_ You can’t change who you are, _ Connor whispers back,  _ Even if you won’t recognize that yourself. _

He hides his wedding ring in a box in his bedroom, and he closes his eyes, and wills himself to forget.

 

.::.

 

His last name is stripped away from him.

_ Kevin McKinley _ is no more. Now he’s just Kevin Price.  _ Just _ . Kevin Price. Boring, plain, ordinary old Kevin Price. Mormon Kevin Price. He’s not allowed to see Connor, or Fae, or Arnold, or Naba, or any of his friends that come to the door to plead to see Kevin. 

His father says he’s proud of him, for staying away from such evils. For the first time ever, his father does  _ not _ call him a fairy.

And Kevin beams, and does all his homework for the therapist, and repents for his sins, and resolves that he can find happiness again through  _ Christ _ , and that  _ Heavenly Father _ will heal his mental illness, no matter how weak-minded and broken it may be.

 

.::.

 

He didn’t know he was being forced into marriage.

They introduce him to this girl. Her name is Emily. She’s an alpha woman, whose parents helped set this up. She’s blonde, and tan, and as tall as Kevin, and certainly awkwardly muscular. She looks like she could tear down a building, honestly-- or tear down  _ Kevin _ . She waves assertively, eyeing Kevin like a piece of meat. 

He shudders with her stare. This is not the warm, comforting, affectionate gaze of Connor, who would love and worship the ground he walked on, and every inch of his skin would be covered and doused in Connor’s undying love.  
  
This is a Mormon alpha woman, whose mission is from  _ God _ , and that mission is to put Kevin in his place.  
  
His anxiety flares through the roof. It all makes sense now.

_ They wanted to fix me _ . 

When he goes to bed that night, he tries to run, except the window is locked from the outside, and then he finds his door is now bolted shut, and he starts freaking out and banging on the door and oh,  _ god _ , he’s been trapped. He’s been tricked, and trapped, and now he has no husband to run to, and he has no family anymore to trust him.   
  
“Let me out!” he sobs, “Let me out! I’m not getting married to  _ her _ ! Let me go!”

_ Connor! _ He screams through their bond,  _ Connor, help me! _

It’s midnight, and Connor’s probably not awake and probably can’t hear through their bond. He slumps down, his body shaking as he realizes how badly he’s been duped.  
  
He’s fucking naive. A fucking naive, stupid, stereotypical omega who just blindly followed the rules and didn’t care what the consequences were.  
  
So much for doing the right thing.

_ Connor, wake up, wake up wake up wake up, wake up, wake up---  
_   
Nothing happens, and he finds himself spiraling, deep, dark, down. He ruined his own life. He ruined his life, he has no way out. All custody of his child has gone to Connor. Kevin didn’t even get visitation rights, his parents made him waive them away. They did this to him. They tricked him. He should’ve never gone back, he should’ve  __ never believed they’d ever loved him.

The only person who saw through that was Connor.

Oh, Connor. Too smart and wise for his own good, too naive, too trusting and not intrusive enough to stop Kevin from ruining his life.

Connor awakens with a jolt on his end. It’s the end. It’s the end, and Kevin just wants him to know how much he loves him. He feels empty now, he feels empty and duped and hopeless and he just needs him to know right now, that Kevin did love him and Fae. He did. With all his heart. He just didn’t know how to do it productively, at all.

He grabs his orange bottle of antidepressants, ignoring Connor’s sleepy  _ Kevin, what’s going on, _ and cracks open some water. He needs to feel something. He needs to feel alive again, he needs to stop feeling sad. He needs to feel.

_ Kevin? What are you doing? _

White pills pour into his hand. He watches the remainder of them fall down into his palm, and he squeezes his fist shut for a moment, closing his eyes.

“Forgive me,” he whispers, “I can’t go on anymore.”

_ Kevin, stop! _

He can feel Connor writhing, squirming in bed, searching for his phone, searching for anything to stop his mate from doing this.

In a few moments, he’ll only be thinking of the good times. He’ll be thinking of waking up in Uganda with his boyfriend smiling at his side and asking him if he slept well. He’ll be thinking of repairing the broken down church, of the children who looked up at him with beady eyes as he translated  _ The Book of Arnold _ to them in a way they’d understand. He remembers stupid games of Monopoly in the mission hut living room, of watching illegally bootlegged Disney movies on the tiny TV screen they had. Life was bearable, then. It was less real. The stakes felt so much lower, he felt like he was doing so much good.

_ Stop it! Stop it right now! _

He takes a swig of the water, swishes it around in his mouth before he tosses in a couple pills and lets them chase their way down his throat. He doesn’t feel anything, yet. He won’t feel anything soon enough, ever again.

_ No, no, no, stop it! Stop-- I’m gonna call 911, stop it-- _

Kevin shakily takes the remainder in his fist, swallowing them and sinking to the floor. He waits for morning to come. He waits for God to take him away from it all, to bring him back home, to let him rest in peace.

_ Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake, please, Kevin, please... _

The muscles in his body are cramping up and he thinks maybe he’s having a seizure, the way his eyes get fucked up and he sees colors and he thinks he sees Connor coming to get him, coming to take him home, coming to rescue him from  _ Emily _ and he thinks, maybe he is pregnant, after all, with a phantom baby, and their son is on the way and soon he’ll have the family he’s always wanted. He can hear the cries of an infant, rocking in his arms, and Connor’s big blue eyes belong to the child, and he closes his eyes and crosses his hands over his chest fondly.

  
“Baby…” he chuckles softly, “We have a baby.”

The door opens and the sirens are wailing when he’s nearly gone, his lips blue and his pulse faint, and Kevin thinks for a moment that the stars are guiding him home. The blue and red lights lull him to finally sleep, as the oxygen mask encases over him.

 

.::.

 

The next day at noon, he’s in the ER, and Connor is screaming from somewhere that he wants to see him but his parents are keeping him outside, and Kevin blinks blearily from under the medications in his system. His mom hushes him, and presses a damp rag to his forehead.   
  
“Where’m I?”

“Hush, baby, go back to sleep,” his mom coos, “You need to rest.”

He doesn’t understand why he’s there, and why the lights are so bright and white and why his eyes hurt to open and his stomach aches and groans and he feels like he’s been vomiting for hours. 

“I want Connor.” he croaks, his throat dry and raw, “Please let’m see me.”   
  
“Emily is on the way to hospital--”   
  
“Connor, where is he--”   
  
“Shut up already,” his father barks, “You have no right to see each other anymore, you legally signed that away.”   
  
The stronger alpha silences Kevin, and he groans and brushes the hair out of his eyes. He shudders with chills. His stomach growls. Something is so wrong.  
  
“You had your stomach pumped, baby,” his mother whispers, “go to sleep. It’ll be okay soon.”   
  
“Why’d I do that?” Kevin asks.  
  
“Accident.”   
  
His mother smiles softly, stroking her son’s cheek until his eyelids flutter shut. She smoothes out his hair, rubs his shoulders.

“S’rry I made you sad,” Kevin hiccups, “I love you, mom.”

“I love you, baby,” she mumbles, “it’ll be alright. Just sleep now.”

 

.::.

 

He doesn’t remember any moments of anything past getting locked in his room. He tries so hard, focuses his mind, but he cannot. It’s better that way, anyways, that he can’t remember what he did, or why, because his brain is rewired and unbroken.

He passes his therapy. “Brightminded,” the therapist labels him, “A model student.”   
  
At 26 years old, Kevin is a new man, it seems. A submissive, shy omega, with a fiance eager to please. He lets her be the boss. It is his biblical duty.  
  
His wedding night, his parents allow him to drink before they enter the Temple. He doesn’t know why they do so, but they hand him some champagne and make sure he’s nice and drunken up before he says those vows.

Of course, it’s all to make sure he doesn’t  _ really _ consent to what he’s doing, but he doesn’t know that. They fixed him.

_ He’s fixed. _

The wedding night at Temple is great until they go straight to the hotel room, and Kevin wrestles and squirms and cries underneath his new bride as she has his way with him. It’s an uncomfortable fit, and she complains about him not being in heat and he says he doesn’t want to be pregnant because he has a  _ hole in his stomach _ and she laughs, oh how Emily laughs.   
  
“Silly Kevin,” she whispers.

He can hear his ex-husband’s voice in the back of his mind. He can feel and see Connor’s anguish and struggle, he knows Connor senses Kevin’s panic and hurting and can feel his struggle.   
  
And, does it  _ hurt _ . She doesn’t prepare him, she’s just doing what the Church taught her to do and that’s just to dominate the omega in any which way, even as the tears spill over and Kevin hides half his face in the pillow until she’s all finished. He can hear Connor’s crying somewhere in the back of his mind, see him paralyzed as Kevin is from where he’s at dinner with Chris and James.

It goes on a little longer than a few minutes, and Connor locks himself in a bathroom stall, taking in shaky breaths while Kevin lies there helplessly taking it all. His wife has surprisingly good stamina, considering, and Kevin almost knocks himself unconscious from the lack of breathing on his end. He squeezes his eyes shut until it’s all done, and holds his breath, and not  _ feel _ , because it’s disgusting and  _ this can’t be _ what Heavenly Father wanted for him.

Heavenly Father promised an alpha wife who’d care for him, who was sweet and generous and kind. While Emily is sweet, she is not generous, and she certainly isn’t kind, hefting Kevin around like a stuffed animal trophy. The Church shot him, ripped his guts out and stuffed him up with absolute nonsense to hang on Emily’s mantle.    
  
But she’s also only following the Church’s orders. It’s not her fault she’s this way, as painful as it is, and Kevin knows that, but she could at least have been  _ gentle _ .   
  
“It hurt.” Kevin whines, when she’s finished.

She cups his cheek affectionately, and kisses him sickeningly sweetly.  
  
“You’re just following through Heavenly Father’s will. You’ve been born again to Christ, it’s supposed to hurt when your body is His Temple. You can sleep, now, handsome. Goodnight.”    


Kevin can’t. He stares glumly at the ceiling, avoiding her gaze as she rolls over and doesn’t even hold him. She’s so perky and bubbly and her head kind of tilts when she laughs, and it unnerves him.

He swallows hard, touching the scar on his stomach.

_ Kevin? Are you there? _ Connor whimpers through their bond. Kevin can feel Connor’s hands shaking. It’s almost like he’s there, with him. Kevin is so, so sick, and scrawny, and pale, and all his weight is beginning to float off into space, leaving him so small and weak. A biblical omega. It’s just what they wanted him to be.

Kevin shakes his head exhaustedly, pulling the covers up to his neck. He’s so drunk, and sluggish, and the muscle relaxers in the drinks he consumed are really taking their toll on him. He stares blankly at nothing, remembering a time when he was free, when his life was fun. When his life wasn’t… like  _ this. _

_ Tell me about Fae, till I sleep,  _ Kevin whispers back,  _ Please. How is she? _

Connor  _ does _ , in a soft tone; he tells Kevin about how he took her to the zoo last week, and how big she’s getting, and how he bets she’ll be tall like Kevin and that makes Kevin weep, his chest heaving as he fights to keep himself silent. He’s so, so very tired, though, and he drifts off to Connor’s words shortly thereafter, his face wet with tears and his eyelids dark and bruised.


	7. PART ONE: Chapter 7

He tries his hardest to love her. Really. At first she really seems to  _ like _ him, and in the first few months it’s a lot better than what follows, better than their wedding night. He’s not attracted to her in any way, but he thinks, maybe he can make it manageable. Maybe.

She has a great smile, and she commands every room she stands in. She compliments how athletic Kevin is day in and night. That’s about as good as it gets. She likes his looks, he likes the comfortability. The safety.

That disappears after a while. What she admires about Kevin turns into bitterness, and soon she gets very quickly fed up with his “attitude” problems. So he turns it all off, shuts the door, and lets the world continue to fester and hate him.

His mother didn’t give Emily her blessing. Not until her husband yelled at her, and she croaked out a blessing and moved on with her life. Mr. Price was  _ determined _ this was a perfect match, and as they pray at the dinner table with their weekly family dinner night, Kevin feels his father’s smile of approval, and for once, he thinks,  _ maybe this will work. Even if my wife hates me, I am redeemed _ .

Fairies don’t ever really stop being fairies. He just didn’t know that yet.

 

.::.

 

In his apartment with Connor in Albany, they were equals. 

In his two story house with Emily, he is the housewife.

He cooks, he cleans, he’s not allowed to have a job, he stays at home, sulking in the shadows. He’s not allowed to see his friends (and certainly not Connor, who may or may not try in vain to sneak over on Christmas break to check in on him and unfortunately gets caught; that was ugly), he’s only allowed to see direct family.

There are so many chores. Walk the dog, wash the dishes, dust and clean and maybe squeeze in a soap opera if he has time. It’s honestly alarming how easily he settles into routine, letting his bachelor’s in Environmental Science go to waste because he has a wife to care for (or rather, she provides for him). 

His wife is a lawyer, and five years his senior. She must’ve been on the market for a while for her demanding and cold personality. Every argument is twisted around on him, and he takes the fall and blame for every scathing critique she throws his way. And then, she’s sweet and bubbly and charming once again.   
  
“It’s not my fault you’re a wimpy omega,” she hisses, “They should’ve kept you in therapy longer to actually fix your broken behind.”  
  
He paws at his teary eyes, and accepts the abuse, because that’s what a good fairy does. That’s what a good omega, a good boy, a good son and a good husband does. His fate is legally binding, and he will never escape it now.   
  
Alcohol is his only friend now. At least she lets him have that, so he can stomach sleeping with her (if at all). He hides in the closet sometimes, locking the door and hiding behind the coats and pants hung up in the bedroom, his body sandwiched in that little corner. Sometimes, if she’s really aggressive, he sleeps in there to avoid her. It’s pathetically sad.

It’s a miserable, miserable way to live. All the other Elders had their happy endings, and Kevin had to go and fuck his up. He doesn’t get a happy ending. He gets a miserable, rotten,  _ Mormon _ life and he gets to devote his whole life to the religion he previously escaped, all because he thought he could lead a double life.

As if he didn’t know the consequences. He can have Connor,  _ or _ Mormonism. He really needed his own brand of faith, maybe a non denominational church, something that wouldn’t judge as harshly but still feel like home.  
  
He prays every night silently by his bedside with his wife every night. What she doesn’t know, is he prays to Heavenly Father to let him get away. To let him be free, to find himself again. He has all these broken, shattered pieces but no way to fit them into the puzzle board.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he prays to be a fairy, and grow wings to fly away.

 

.::.

 

The last time he heard from Connor was the one day he tried to sneak Kevin out of the house. After that, Connor just faded away. In and out of their bond, he feels Connor’s emotions, sees brief glances of what he’s seeing.    
  
The radio silence hurts. For a year after Connor’s rescue attempt in vain, Kevin wonders if he’s gone forever. If he’s never coming back, if he’s gotten bored of Kevin or moved on. He seems to be happy, mostly, with a few brief moments of sadness.   
  
He misses his ex. He misses his baby. He knows he’ll never get them back, now, not since his wife caught him trying to run and he was given stricter rules, monitored even more closely.

_ Connor, will you talk to me? Please? I’m lonely. _

Dead silence. Kevin hugs his arms around himself.

_ Please?  _

But it’s all without recompense. No response. No acknowledgement that Kevin is even there.

For the first time in a long time, Kevin feels deeply, darkly alone.

 

.::.

 

He’s not gay anymore. They fixed him. 

The church fixed him. The bishop fixed him. 

His parents smile. He turns it off.   
  
He feels nothing, now. 

His wife touches him and he doesn’t react. He doesn’t feel anything, at all, and he’s not sure he ever will again. All his previous memories. Dirty. He is dirty, filthy.

He can’t be gay anymore. It makes him want to injure himself in some way, every time he thinks about the things they made him do in Church. In Purity Camp.

The boy in the mud touching his hips when he was 15 years old.

That was a sin. Connor was a sin.

When his head breaches from being dunked under the water, he knows he’s saved.

He prays for the next day, and he prays for the souls of those sinners who tainted him.

 

.::.

 

“You look unwell,” his mother frets, pressing a hand to his forehead privately in the solace of his childhood bedroom.   


Throughout the return of her son to  _ the Church _ , his mother’s worry has grown and her hair has started turning gray and her wrinkles are so much more prominent than Kevin remembers, and he feels like a child all over again resting his head on his mom’s knees and listening to the wind blow through the backyard trees.

“I’m okay, mom,” he lies, “I’m just tired, that’s all.”  
  
“Is she treating you okay? Are you eating enough?”   
  
Kevin shrugs. That’s all he has left to do. He shrugs.  
  
“My body is a Temple for Heavenly Father. Is this not what He had in mind for me?” he whispers hoarsely. 

His throat is so dry, and his head is pounding under the bright summer sun. She looks torn, sad, even, and she presses her palm coolly to his forehead.  
  
“Headache,” Kevin explains, “I’m not sick.”   
  
“Oh, baby, I know,” his mother coos, “At least not physically. Your heart must hurt greatly.”   
  
“I’m fine.” he insists, “I did what dad wanted, what Heavenly Father wanted.”   
  
She smiles, but there’s no warmth.

“Of course you did, Kevin. I’m sure your father thinks you did the right thing.”

With a sad sigh, she adds, “I miss her.”

“Who?” Kevin asks.  
  
“Your daughter. She looked just like you.”   
  
For a while after that, Emily doesn’t let him see his mom anymore. He is back under lock and key, alone in the expansive house, with no one to keep him company. He spends a month all by himself and trapped under the white walls of his castle, waiting for Prince Charming. Except Prince Charming is thousands of miles away, and Kevin?   
  
Emily swallows the metaphorical key, pats him on the head, and leaves him to the dust.

Not until the test comes back positive, is anyone allowed near Kevin.

 

.::.

 

He’s pregnant.

He wishes he wasn’t, but he is, and his sisters and his sisters-in-law coo and fawn over him at every given moment while his wife pretends she does all the work for him. 

When he was pregnant with Fae, Connor was most attentive to his every need. They were so excited to be parents. When he felt sick, Connor brought him decaf mint tea (as much as he  _ hates _ mint, it definitely helped) and wrapped him up in blankets and rubbed his sore and swollen feet. He massaged his shoulders and back and gave him extra kisses and hugs and practically worshipped the ground Kevin walked on, as much as Kevin insisted he didn’t have to. 

They watched Enchanted on repeat. It was the first movie they watched together when they stepped off the plane in Salt Lake City, curled up under Connor’s duvet and eating boatloads of popcorn and chocolate. It was a distraction, from everything. From Kevin’s sadness, from Connor’s worry over him. But it brought them joy. It brought them healing.

It doesn’t make sense, in Kevin’s mind, what entirely went wrong. What made Kevin break down and return to the religion he hated. Maybe he was so desperate to prove himself to the wrong people, he sacrificed everything in return.

The thought was maddening, and he wraps his arm around his swollen tummy. He doesn’t want to know the baby’s gender. He does not want to be a dad again.

He regrets telling Connor he ever hated Fae’s name. Until this unfortunate predicament, she was the only thing of Kevin’s he had to share with Connor.  
  
Now, this baby won’t be Connor’s, and he will be all alone in raising it, truly, because his wife never gives a shit and he’s constantly tormented by the sharp words of her and his family.

“You’re a good Mormon, Kevin,” his mom says with a bright, sunny smile, “This is your first  _ legitimate  _ child.”

He wants to scream. He wants to tear his hair out. Instead, he lazily strokes his belly, and is silent in Church, when the churchgoers bless him and tell him how much they’ve missed him and are proud of him for “rejoining his faith”, and praise his wife for “correcting” him and “putting him in his place.”

Tortured by the constant criticism, Kevin remains dutifully silent. He does not speak his mind. He does not wish for Connor to come rescue him anymore.

He’s beyond saving, at this point.

 

.::.

 

He hates how large his stomach is, now. It feels foreign. The scar looks so much bigger this way, and he hates that. He hates how weak and fat and ugly he feels, and he’s reminded of how alone he is.

Well, he won’t be alone for long. He’ll have a baby. And like hell he will protect this child from his wife with his life. He has to.

The pampering comes with the pregnancy. His wife lets him have more food, and buys him nice clothes, and treats him more often. Kevin is confused and flustered by it all, the displays of affection, but he knows it’s all fake. She is only pampering the child  _ inside _ of him, and not really Kevin himself. For him, she could care less. She wants a big Mormon family, and she tells him that often.

He thinks… he thinks he wants to run away, so frequently, but he’s a dog trapped in a collar and leash. His limits are her own, and he is impossibly caged into this new lifestyle he desperately wanted to escape years ago. His belly grows larger by the day, and he worries more and more about bringing a child into his already neurotic and fearful life.

He cannot let the baby down. He has to be a good parent, even if he couldn’t be there for Fae, he won’t fail this one.

 

.::.

 

_ Hey. _

_... _

_ Hey Connor. _

_... _

_ I know you’re not listening to me. I’m lonely. _

_ It’s okay though. I understand. You probably have your own life to worry about.  _

_ I wish I could come home. _

_ I miss you. _

_ I sound like such a mess. _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ One day it will be alright. I have to believe that one day we’ll be okay again. I don’t want to get back together, but just on good terms. That’s all I want. I want to see my family again. _

_ You’re my family. _

_ I don’t know what to do. Would you give me some sort of sign that you’re listening? _

_...no? _

_...okay.  _

_ I’m seven months now. This was the same time we had Fae. _

_ I’m scared. I’m worried that something will go wrong. My wife isn’t ever home. I think she’s cheating on me, so, there’s that, right? _

_ So much for a good Mormon family, huh? Not when I’m just here to sleep with all the time. _

_ Life sucked me dry. _

_ You know, I can feel that you’re listening. You probably think I’ve lost my mind. _

_ Me too. I do. I lost my mind a long time ago. I made some dumb decisions. _

_ I see a therapist every week. The only time I get outside of the house sometimes, unless I’m at my parents. My wife drives me and I get to talk to Doctor Rhodes all by myself. She has beady little eyes and I tell her all about you and me. When things were good, and I wasn’t so irrationally stupid. _

_ We drive past that diner we ate at the first time you took me out to eat in Utah, and I glue my face to the window and it’s like seeing a ghost, really, because I remember every little detail of that day. How tan we were from Uganda, well,  _ I was tan, _ you were  _ sunburnt.  _ Funny, huh? And you held my hands across the table for the first time and told me how happy we were gonna be. _

_ You were always such an optimist. You are an optimist. Still. Old habits die hard. I was always a piece of bullpoop. I don’t know why you loved me. But you did, and I took that for granted so hard. I just want you to know that I still do. I suck. I really do.  _ _   
_ _   
_ __ I loved you so much for it. All of it. 

_ I have a baby on the way, and it’s not yours, and that hurts.  _ _   
_ _   
_ __ I just want you to know I didn’t want it.

_ … _

_ You did love me, too, right? _

_ You loved… you loved me… _

_ And I… _

_ … _

_ It doesn’t matter. I’m not gay anymore. _

_ They fixed me. You made me that way, and I’m so mad you did that. So mad. You tainted me, Connor.  _

_ We can still be friends though. We’re stuck in each other’s minds forever because we did a sinful thing and bonded after having a baby out of wedlock. That was tragic. _

_ I’m fixed. I got re-baptized. I have a child with my wife on the way. I’m pretty happy. _

_ You believe me, don’t you? _

_ I’m all better now. _

_ Maybe we both should’ve stuck to turning it off. _

_ Well, I just wanted to say I found some of your old Broadway vinyls in my safe the other day. I have a record player, I asked for it for Christmas. It’s the only gift I got. I don’t know why your copies of  _ Baker’s Wife _ and  _ She Loves Me _ were in there, but I listened to  _ Meadowlark _ and cried for a while. I’m as dumb as Genevieve, honestly. I too ran away from a good life because I thought-- _

_ Well. I don’t know what I thought. _

_ I just… _

_ No. Stop it Kevin. Heavenly Father forbids it. _ _   
_ _   
_ __ Off. Off off off off--

_ Remember when you used to sing old showtunes in the shower and you used to sing them to Fae when she was small like lullabies? You’d sing her  _ Sound of Music _. I’ve stored your voice in the back of my head, I think, to get me through the bad days. I can’t listen to that one anymore. All I think about is you. _

_ I don’t even know why I haven’t tried to run yet, but she locked all the windows and doors. There’s an electric fence in the yard, isn’t that sad? I’m a bird in a cage. I’m a Meadowlark. _

_ I miss my baby girl. I think about her so much. How excited we were to have her. I don’t even feel excited for this baby, isn’t that sad too? An unwanted baby with an unwanted wife.  _

_ It breaks my heart. _

_ Can you say something, please? At least breathe in my general direction so I know you aren’t dead or something. _

_...Connor? _

_...you there? _

_ Okay. _

_ Goodnight. _

 

.::.

  
It’s a boy, and his wife is late to the arrival of their child.

He swore, and maybe he’s crazy, but he hears Connor’s voice, guiding him through it through all the pain and suffering and the forty hours of labor that drive Kevin absolutely crazy. His mom squeezes his hand the whole time, the hours ticking by where there is no Emily there to see the birth of her first child. It’s like she doesn’t even care. 

_ It’s okay. Just breathe and push. _

Kevin obeys, wondering if the meds they’ve put him on are making him delusional, or if his lonely mind is conjuring up images that he can’t stomach himself.

_ I don’t wanna die, _ Kevin whimpers back,  _ It hurts. Gosh, it hurts. _

_ You won’t die. Listen to me. I’m right here. You aren’t going anywhere. Breathe. _

He wishes it were Connor’s hand squeezing his, those blue eyes looking into his own with that warmth and tenderness, lips soft and moist and kissing his knuckles as Kevin strains and struggles to keep his breathing stable. He can’t even cry anymore, his moans of pain strangled and regurgitated with every gasp for air.

_ You’re almost done. Pretend I’m right there, holding your hand. _

He holds his mom’s hand so tight his knuckles begin to turn white, and his head falls back against the pillows.

_ See? I’m here. Breathe. Push, you’re almost done. _

He can almost feel Connor’s smile in those words. It makes him feel a little less alone, even if he knows it’s all a fantasy. He closes his eyes, and pushes.

And then there he is.

He comes full term, his little fists waving and his mouth wide open as he screams and wails, and Kevin’s strong enough to hold him, at least, even though the pushing sure hurt. He has little dark wisps of hair on his forehead, matted down with blood and the doctors wash him down a bit and cut the cord before they really hand him over to Kevin. He’s exhausted. 

_ You did it. Look at your son. Everything will be alright. _

Emily still isn’t there.

The baby is beautiful, with big eyes and a tiny button nose and he looks so much like Kevin did as a baby, all soft and sweet and Kevin just wants to bundle him up and hold him close and never let go. He decides then, he’ll guard him with his life.

“What did your wife want to name the baby?” his mother asks.

_ She didn’t give me a name, _ Kevin wants to say. He feels something warm in his bond mark. Something soft, almost forgiving. 

“His name’s Matthew,” Kevin says confidently, “He’s my little prince.”

_ Fae’s a big sister, _ Kevin whispers,  _ I love them so much. I want to see my girl again. I want to, Connor, promise me I’ll get to see her soon. _

The Connor voice in the back of his head disappears just like that, as if it never existed in the first place, because then his wife arrives, and gloats and jeers and claims that the beautiful child in her arms is  _ all her doing _ , and Kevin kind of holds Matthew a little bit closer, protectively, and swears one day, they’ll have a better life.    
  
He has to keep praying he’ll make a better life for them.

 

.::.

 

Connor has a boyfriend.

The news falls on Kevin’s ears not-so-lightly at a supervised visit with Arnold, and it’s thrown away and not mentioned again.  
  
“He’s going to Broadway,” Arnold mutters under his breath, careful for Kevin’s wife in the other room not to hear, “He’s got a boyfriend now, Mark I think? Apparently he’s in Wicked or something. The boyfriend, that is. Connor’s in Phantom… that’s what Naba said. We’re all going to his first performance. He’s just in the ensemble.”

“Oh.”

That kills something in Kevin he didn’t know could be killed. He sniffles, and wipes his eyes, and gives a shaky, shaky smile.  
  
“Are you okay?” Arnold whispers.  
  
“I’m great.” Kevin says, “How’s Nabulungi?”   
  
Connor accomplished his dreams without him. Connor has a new significant other.   
  
Will Kevin ever get to see Fae again? Does she even know who he is, anymore? These very thoughts leave him spiraling into panic, his eyes flickering back and forth as he frantically tries to listen to Arnold’s spiel about his own fiancee. 

“Kevin, are you listening?” Arnold asks.

“Yes, of course. You were talking about Naba. Can I see her sometime? I miss her.” he says, earnestly.  
  
“You miss him too, don’t you?”

Kevin nods, without saying much. After some hesitation, Kevin rolls down his turtleneck, timidly showing an ugly blackening bruise on his collar, right near his bonding mark. Arnold pales at the sight, his glasses nearly slipping off his nose.

“Did she--”   
  
“My dad. Punched me. He missed my face because I dodged his fist,” Kevin corrects him, glumly, “My ex was right, he’s not very nice.”

“You need to call a hotline or something. I’m gonna take a picture of that, okay?”   
  
Kevin flinches away from Arnold’s outreached hand, before he notices the worried look on his best friend’s face. He hasn’t seen Arnold in forever, and now Arnold knows  _ why _ Kevin’s kept indoors.   
  
“I don’t want this going around.” he says, and then reluctantly adds, “Take it really quickly, okay?”   
  
“Okay.”

Arnold does, taking pics of both Kevin’s exhausted face, his unusually skinny frame, and the bruise marred across Kevin’s throat. Arnold frowns, pursing his lips, as he gently strokes Kevin’s cheek.  
  
“There, there, buddy, it will be  _ alllllright. _ ”

“Will it really?” Kevin scorns with disdain.   
  
“I already sent it to Connor.”   
  
Kevin’s eyes widen with horror.   
  
“Arnold, stop it--”   
  
“He should know!”   
  
“He’s got a boyfriend now, Fae probably doesn’t even know who I am any--”  
  
“Kevin, he  _ misses _ y--”   
  
“ _ Kevin!” _ his wife calls from the living room, “Can you bring me some of the chopped up fruit in the fridge?”   
  
“Yes dear!” Kevin replies over his shoulder.

Arnold shakes his head mournfully as Kevin cracks open the refrigerator, fishing out exactly what she’s requested of him.  
  
“So you’re like a slave now? Jesus. This is like Star Wars. All you’re missing is a bikini for Jabba the Hut.”   


Kevin presses a finger to Arnold’s lips to shush him, looking beyond distressed. That’s the last time he gets to see Arnold for the next year after that, because his wife certainly does not like  _ Arnold Cunningham’s _ interference.

 

.::.

 

His father slaps him at the dinner table. 

His mother starts to cry, and then she’s arguing with his father, and Kevin shrinks back in on himself like he did when he was a kid. Small, fragile, tiny. Sean mocks him at the table. He’s going off to his mission soon.

“I’ll actually succeed, unlike you,” Sean sneers.    
  
“I didn’t fail the mission. The mission failed me,” Kevin replies, even if he knows he’s weak and useless. 

To his father, he’s just a child still, easily molded whichever darn way his father pleases. Kevin’s mind is frail now, no thanks to the countless therapy sessions and his warped, disgusting treatment by his family. Does he have a family anymore?   
  
What does it matter? He’s just a kid in their eyes.

That’s all his dad will ever see him as anyways.

Just a stupid, stupid kid.

 

.::.

 

He throws up five times in a row one week, bright and early in the morning before his wife has even risen to get ready for work.

She doesn’t rub his shoulders, or offer him tea or anything to ease his nausea. He just hurls, his body shaking and his shoulders clammy and sweaty from the strain. And he hates, hates,  _ hates _ throwing up and he hates being sick and it makes him all the more paranoid.

He stares at the ugly paisley wall for a long time while his wife squeals and calls her parents and says she’s bringing together a  _ big, Mormon family _ and she managed to get Kevin pregnant a second time.  
  
Like it’s something to be proud of. Spousal abuse. Hip-hip-hooray, as if Kevin ever got a say in birth control and planning a family. No, he just had to bend over a few weeks after having a baby and give it to her all over again.

Kevin closes his eyes and rests his head against the bathroom wall, hugging his knees to his chest, and he prays.

He prays for Heavenly Father to spare another child from suffering. 

Two weeks later, he learns he isn’t pregnant, and that it was a fluke, and the scar on his stomach hurts and he drinks a little bit too much to celebrate the occasion; and his wife doesn’t understand what’s happening and per the usual, he’s loaded into an ambulance with bright, flashing lights. And by the time they reach the hospital, they discover there was never a fetus to begin with. It was a phantom pregnancy, the ghost of a baby that never was.  
  
He thinks maybe his prayer was answered. In his wife’s eyes, this is his fault.  
  
“You didn’t eat enough, so you miscarried,” his wife scorns, “Or your previous sinful life has cursed your fertility.”   
  
“We already have a baby, and I wasn’t pregnant to begin with,” Kevin croaks miserably, “Please don’t touch me. I’ll get really drunk again, you don’t like me when I’m drunk.”   
  
“I don’t.” she says coolly;

“But you ought to watch your tongue, young man.”

He feels a stir in his bond mark, as if Connor has been listening in, and hurting too, but Kevin can’t hurt anymore. He just feels numb.

He doesn’t ever get drunk like  _ that _ anymore, not until this moment, and not like when they were first married and he couldn’t calm down when she touched him and he’d flee and try and run away.

Back when he called Connor, completely hammered out of his mind, and spilled everything that was happening to him (as if Connor didn’t already know), and Connor came all the way to get him, only to fail.

For a moment, he felt like his old self again, free and unchained by the soft melody of their former romance, but that fire quickly died.

They barely got to the airport before Kevin’s parents stopped him, and tearily, he had to go home empty handed. His dad moved to hit Connor, and Kevin stood in the way, per the usual. 

The look of hatred Connor gave him after that (at least, he was certain it was hatred) was menacingly heartbreaking, with his jaw dropped in disbelief and anger and he lunged for Kevin’s dad and Kevin broke it up once again, cradling his bloody nose as his mom pulled tissues out of her purse.  
  
“I’ll go home, I’ll go home, I’ll do what you want,” Kevin had sniffled, “Please, no more.”

“I could get you arrested for kidnapping, son,” Mr. Price snarls at Connor, “don’t you forget it.”   
  
“I ought to charge  _ you _ for child abuse, reckless abandonment, and kidnapping! Look what you did to him! He wasn’t like this, he wasn’t ever fucking like this!” Connor shouted back.

_ Why do you always have to step in the fucking way? _ Connor had screamed at him through their bond,  _ Let me defend you for fucking once! _

_ I can’t do that, Connor, _ Kevin had mournfully replied,  _ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. _

Somewhere, it’s Fae’s fifth birthday, and Kevin feels utterly detached and heartbroken. Somewhere, Connor has a show tonight on Broadway, and a boyfriend to come home to who now is on some Wicked National Tour whom according to Arnold, at least, flies home on his breaks to spoil Fae rotten.  
  
“Does she call him dad?” Kevin asks, his heart aching.

Arnold shakes his head. Thankfully.

  
“Uncle Mark.” Arnold says, “I don’t think Connor would do that to you.”

Fae has a family who loves her and two wonderful father figures in her life and Kevin’s just the forgotten spare who’s been hidden in a broom closet and is so dusty and weathered no one calls out for him anymore. No one is there for Kevin Price, anymore.

Their Mission Anniversary is coming up, and Kevin thinks he wants to go, badly, and his wife shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh, mister. Don’t need you slipping off without me.”   
  
“But--”   
  
“But what?”   
  
“What if I ask for it for my birthday?” Kevin says, matter-of-factly. 

She curls her lip and sneers.

“Oh, grow up,” she growls, “Don’t be such a baby.”

Kevin nods glumly, picking at his sleeves between his fingertips, and bites his lip to keep from crying. He never gets his way. He never gets to be himself, or be free.

And frankly, he’s all worn out. Kevin Price has given up, on life, on being a good husband, of being a good son.

He’s given up, and he’s angry.

 

.::.

 

On his first birthday, Kevin dresses Matthew in a brand new disney onesie and watches Enchanted alone on their sofa. He’s too young for cake (at least in his eyes; he’s afraid he’s so delicate that he’ll break if he does any simple, wrong thing), so instead he gets pureed fruit and he eats it with the most adorable face and babbles fussily. He’s learning to walk, and has Kevin’s dark, dark brown hair that counters his pale eyes and he sticks his fist in his mouth (and Kevin swears one day he’ll fix that so he doesn’t have messed up teeth), and he pays extra attention to his cries and his whines and his little voice babbles, “Dada!”

Fae’s first words were “dada” as well, and his heart hurts the moment it first slips from his younger child’s lips. He tugs on Kevin’s hair, constantly, and stumbles around and tries to walk and he holds his hands on his first steps, and puts him down for bed every night and feeds and bathes and clothes him. He does everything he can. Everything.

He failed Connor, but he wants to get it right this time, even when he’s all alone.   


Emily is away on a business trip. Apparently their first baby’s birthday isn’t important enough, and she’s off in Cali instead, probably getting laid, probably knocking up some sad other omega and leaving Kevin to be chopped liver.

It’s probably some intern. Some little male omega law intern at the office who winked her direction and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Kevin’s definitely noticed her later and later nights, but she still goes to church and prays and acts like nothing is wrong, and gets what she wants from Kevin when she wants it, because how else can he escape?

The house is big, dreary and lonely when you’re an omega doing all the chores and caring for a small infant. He smiles through it all anyways, and never complains, and through and through discovers that he is, in fact, loved. Loved by his baby, his little boy.

_ Does she still remember my name?  _

He calls out to Connor, frequently, alone in the big looming house with the skylights that are too bright and the white picket fence. The home isn’t a home, it’s condescending on every corner with the large portraits of Jesus and Joseph Smith watching him on every turn.

_ Does she know who I am, Connor? Will she ever know who I am? I gave birth to her. I know you hate me. I don’t have a lifestyle you approve of, but I am her parent, too. I wasn’t in a mentally stable mind when I signed away my rights to her, I didn’t get that choice. _

He settles his son down for naptime, and he fusses and whines until the pacifier is plopped into his mouth and he soothes himself to sleep. Kevin smiles, stroking his fingers through the dark brown locks that are barely sprouting on his head.

_ I want Fae to meet her brother. She’d be such a good big sister. Does she know Matthew exists? Has Uncle Arnold shown her pictures? _

He knows Connor is stubborn, and has withheld from sharing anything through their bond for years now to the point that he thinks when Connor does, he’s going crazy or something of that sort. So he smiles, and he obliges, and he settles in for the night like he always does.

Alone.   
  



	8. PART ONE: Chapter 8

The mission reunion is coming up. He’s missed the last few, but he’s particularly anxious because Emily finally said  _ yes _ , he can fly out to New York, and his mom will watch Matthew and he will just be gone for three days and come back immediately after.  
  
He’s so excited he packs and double, no,  _ triple _ checks his clothing, because this is the first time he’s left the house in almost three years and he’s practically screaming on the inside from excitement. He gets to go with Arnold and Nabulungi. No one knows he’s coming, and he wants it to stay that way. He really does, he wants to be a surprise, a secret.

He kisses his baby goodbye, waving as he leaves the terminal and leaves Matthew behind with his mother. Emily doesn’t bother coming to the airport, she’s probably too busy fucking some other male omega. Kevin really can’t bring himself to care. For three days, he gets to be free. He gets to be himself.

No rules.  
  
“You didn’t tell anyone I was coming, did you?” Kevin asks, his hands shaking still when they get into their three-person seats. He’s practically bouncing with excitement that cannot be contained. It’s so big, that Nabulungi is smiling, and she hasn’t smiled at him in such a loving, caring way in years.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in years.” Nabulungi remarks, “The last time you smiled was when you were shopping for baby clothes for Fae.”

“Do you think she’ll be there?” Kevin squeaks, “Do you think Connor will let me see her? Does he know I’m coming? Does he?”   
  
“No, you told us not to--”   
  
“Good. Phew.” Kevin sighs, wiping his brow, “I would be so flippin’ freaked if he knew I was coming. I want it to be totally normal and stuff. I can eat actual good food, thank god, I was sick of Lean Cuisine.”   
  
Nabulungi tips her head, looking to Arnold for help, and he whispers in her ear an explanation to what it was. Kevin watches her lips scowl in disdain. 

“Does that woman of yours feed you? At all?”   
  
“I mean, she buys Lean Cuisine and I eat it all. What kind of food do they have in New York City?” Kevin says, completely unbothered by the question, “I’m already hungry thinking about it. I haven’t had a burger in three years.”   
  
“What--” Arnold about gasps, but Kevin is quick to answer.   
  
“Red meat is bad during pregnancy. She wanted an all natural pregnancy. I managed to convince her I wanted Matthew vaccinated, at-heckin’-least. I think I would’ve died if she told me Matthew wasn’t allowed to be vaccinated, it’s practically child abuse to not protect your baby from disease, you know?”   
  
The way that Arnold and Nabulungi are looking at him is pitiful, at the least, but Kevin is too darn excited about the whole thing to care. He hasn’t been on a plane since they left Albany. He never saw another state, or another city for that matter, again. He’s been in Salt Lake for almost half a decade since then.  
  
It’s really, honestly sad, and that high Kevin is on descends lower, and lower, and lower until it’s painfully aware to him that he’s diving headfirst into the unknown. He hasn’t seen his friends since the divorce-- and by friends he means everyone but Arnold and Nabulungi, who are the only positive influences he has left in such a bleak and dreary time. He sinks into his seat, the weight of it all making him vastly uncomfortable.   
  
What if no one wants to see him? What if Connor told everyone he was crazy, or even worse, a quitter?

His stomach hurts and he closes his eyes and feels all that unhappiness wash over him. He remembers a time when even though Elder Neeley didn’t like him, all the Elders were still brothers, and close, and through their bickering, they cared for one another.

He feels like this is going to go either wonderfully, or incredibly poorly, and the suspense is killing him.  
  
“Hey buddy! Relax,” Arnold says, fist-bumping Kevin’s shoulder, “You’re gonna be a-ok. Everyone will be happy to see you.”   
  
With a shy smile, Kevin brushes it off. He scratches his arm impatiently.

“I want to make things right.” Kevin croaks through his tears, “I just want to make peace.”   
  
“You will.” Nabulungi says, “Trust us.”   
  
He does.

 

.::.

  
The hotel room he’s sharing with them has two beds cramped up in close quarters, and it kind of makes Kevin excited because it reminds him of the mission hut, and he’s such a sound sleeper he knows Arnold and Naba will hardly know he’s there. First things first, he hangs up his suit to check for wrinkles he may have to iron, then he inspects the room for cleanliness, and showers, long, and hot, for almost an hour to get really squeaky clean, and by the time he gets back, Arnold and Naba have left him a little note.

“We’re going on a date. Please stay in and rest :-) It’s getting late and we know you get tired. Order some room service on us!”

Kevin does as he’s told, lounging in his disney pajamas with a martini and a steak. He hasn’t had steak since he left Connor, he didn’t realize how badly he’d missed it. It’s entirely gone within minutes, and he orders another one, not caring if he’ll fit in his suit tomorrow, and that’s also gone within minutes, including the fries and the martini on the side. Boozy and full to the brim, he wonders if this is the kind of life Connor’s living in the city. Room service, or delivery, and good booze and good eats.    
  
It feels so weird, and fairytale like, to be in a big city. Salt Lake doesn’t have the noise pollution of New York City. He stares out the window, watching the sun set over the tall skyscrapers and stars twinkle across the urban landscape. He feels like Giselle in Enchanted, having just fallen through the pothole and landed in New York City, and Connor is his Robert, just as oblivious and unknowing.

His wife calls, and he answers gleefully. She’s not as gleeful.

“Don’t sleep around or overspend your allowance.” she says, “You have a full time job as my omega when you get home.”   
  
“Yes ma’am,” Kevin chirps, “I’ll see you on Monday.”   
  
“Don’t count on it.”   
  
And she hangs up.

Kevin shrugs, gleefully stowing his phone away and turning the ringer off completely. He’s oddly comforted by the fact that the love of his life is less than a few miles away, now. It doesn’t feel so far, so distant. He’ll see Fae soon, whether Connor wants him to or not.

Even if Connor doesn’t love him anymore, he will find his place back in his life, whether that’s as a friend or a lover, because he needs him now, more than ever. He cannot remain trapped like this anymore. He wants to be free.   
  
He wants his family back.

His  _ real _ family.

He closes his eyes, counts to ten, and makes a wish on the twinkling top of the Empire State Building.

_ Heavenly Father, give me the strength to be myself again. Give me the strength to be proud of myself. Give me the strength to be patient and unjudging, and kind, and loving. Amen. _

He squeezes his hands together so tight they could lose circulation as he prays as hard as he can. He is not Mormon. He is not Christian. He is just Kevin Price, and somehow, that’s enough.

 

.::.

 

The next morning is easy. He gets up at 6AM, sharp. He showers for an hour, letting the suds soak into his dark hair and wash down his spine.  
  
The scars don’t bother him too much, anymore. Not the scars on his upper arms, or his stomach, or the few on his legs. They aren’t as violently, aggressively red anymore. They’ve subdued in color to soft, flesh-toned marks. The soap cleanses his skin, wiping away any last bits of skin that she may have touched before he’d left, rinsing him completely clean.

He spends a while styling his hair. This is a  _ business casual _ event, but he still bought a brand new dress shirt and pants. His tie is one Connor gave to him years ago (okay, maybe he  _ borrowed _ it and never gave it back, but he loves it)-- baby pink, with silver flowers embroidered onto it. It’s so blatantly Connor.

Lavender cologne, because he’s embraced an oddly floral side of himself where he enjoys refreshing scents and bright colors and bold patterns in all of his decorating. His wife is boring.  _ Let’s color the house mustard yellow, _ she said, and recoiled when Kevin made an ugly face in response.

_ Pastels! _ he’d argued,  _ They lighten up the room better. _

She didn’t like that reply. Then again, Kevin didn’t particularly like  _ her,  _ either. He got his way with the baby’s room, which is a soft pastel blue. Their bedroom is mustard yellow. Of course. 

The hotel walls and blankets and pillows are various shades of green, and Kevin brushes his teeth with a green toothbrush, and fixes up his hair with gel from a green tube. He’s hooked himself into a bit of a green habit. He’d loved the color as a kid, and he holds onto little things and expands upon them into little titulations and addictions, little reminders to keep him sane in the long, lonely nights. His OCD diagnosis explains an awful lot to his personality, he has to have everything perfectly in order as did Connor. Probably why they drove each other away, they were both  _ way _ too neat and orderly. It conflicted and bounced off the walls if something they placed somewhere went missing or got moved so much as an inch out of place.

“My, I could eat you right up,” Nabulungi teases, pretending to nip on Kevin’s cheek when he emerges from the bathroom.

He grins his signature smile, letting her peck his dimpled cheek and pinch it.  
  
“Oh, you look as  _ cute as a button _ , Kevin,” she praises.   
  
“Hey! You’re not married to  _ him _ ,” Arnold snorts, “Where’s my morning kiss?”   
  
“Sharing is caring. And I brushed my teeth,” Kevin banters back, “I’ll order breakfast if you two wanna get dressed.”   
  
They both agree to the plan, and they eat breakfast  _ on _ their beds kind of greedily (and Kevin does his best to keep it off his clothes, but he can’t help but notice that look Nabulungi has when he practically scarfs down every morsel on the plate). He hasn’t had good,  _ real _ food in ages. His wife always makes him cook and Heavenly Father knows he’s terrible at that, and Family Home Evening is always  _ super _ dismal.

Which he has to be home in time for on Monday. In other words: skip the Book, straight to the bedroom for Kevin, whether he wants it or not.

_ I want to have eight kids before I die, _ his wife would say in a voice that makes Kevin’s skin crawl,  _ I’m not getting any younger. _

The memory makes him freeze, his hands clammy and cold as he really, really doesn’t want to go home now. He hasn’t even  _ seen _ the city, and he doesn’t want to go home.  
  
“Did Connor give you that tie?” Nabulungi asks, just as they leave the hotel to go out on their first  _ adventure _ .

Sheepishly, Kevin blushes.   
  
“I stole it after our first date,” he admits, “I kept it in a box. I didn’t want anything to happen to it.”   


“Naba, stop, Connor’s in a  _ relationship. _ He can read Kevin’s words.” Arnold exasperates.   
  
“Maybe with someone else--” she bumps her hips with Kevin’s, causing him to nearly stumble, “--who needs a man.”

“I’ll never get a divorce, at least in ten years,” Kevin says, wringing his hands, “How would I pay for the baby? I have to factor that in. And I count every penny of my monthly allowance and store it in a box under the bed so she won’t find it and take away my money. In 10 years I’ll have enough money for one month’s rent so I can move out and sue her for child abandonment. I’ve got it under control.”

Arnold and Naba both blink. They look certainly unsure of what to say by the time Kevin meets their eyes. Kevin awkwardly smiles, rubbing the nape of his neck as if nothing were wrong.  
  
“Anyways…”   
  
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Arnold interrupts him, “I don’t get to see you an awful lot, you know. We all miss you.”   
  
Kevin sucks down the tears in the back of his throat.

_ Click. _ Off.

“I’m good, pal,” Kevin chirps.

“You awfully look green for a white boy.” Nabulungi says.  
  
“I have a nausea problem when I eat too fast, I’m fine. Where are we going first? Will there be more food?” Kevin asks, completely avoiding their prodding. The last thing he needs is more people worrying about him. 

Kevin Price is perfectly okay. He’s perfectly fine.

And he doesn’t need someone telling him otherwise.

 

.::.

 

Kevin Price is  _ not _ fine. 

After a stroll through Greenwich Village, Washington Square Park, and devouring pierogies at a Ukrainian diner (he has to have eaten at least forty before they leave, and Arnold and Naba don’t even stop him because he just sucks them all down greedily like a hungry, hungry hippo), he can certifiably, absolutely, and without doubt say out loud that he is 100% not okay.

He forgot momentarily this was New York, when he saw  _ two men _ walking with their redheaded  _ daughter _ through the park and his heart swelled up so tight it compressed his lungs, rendering him unable to breathe. He must’ve been turning blue from not breathing, and his face crumpled in tears when Arnold started tugging him away.  
  
“Is that her?” he sobs, when Arnold gets them to a private place, “Is that my baby?”   
  
“No, no, no.” Arnold soothes, looking helplessly to his wife, “Fae isn’t here, Kevin. She’s probably at home.”

“Shoot…” 

He snuffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. He smiles shakily, trying to pass off as  _ calm _ and  _ quiet _ and  _ submissive _ once again. He can cope with pain. He’s endured so much. He can do this. He can keep it together for Connor.  
  
“I must look like one big dumb idiot. Now everyone’s gonna know I’m a mess at the reunion.”   
  
“You’re not an idiot,” Nabulungi insists, “Ask Connor if you can see her, at the dinner tonight. He misses you.”   
  
Kevin’s face pales like a ghost, and all the warmth rushes out of his body. His knees tremble and feel weak at the mention of Connor, and even more at what followed Arnold’s words.

“He misses me?” Kevin croaks, “Why? I ruined his life.”   
  
Arnold at least attempts to be helpful. “You two have a baby girl together, he could never hate you that much.” 

“Yeah?”   
  
He snuffles.   
  
“Wul, I guess you’re right. I can at least try. Worst thing he can do is say no.”

The moment Kevin ran out of the door and out of his life, he panicked.

Connor didn’t know what to do with babies, and  _ especially _ girls, for that matter. He didn’t know entirely how to parent on his own. He could cook, he could clean, but the social aspect? Daunting. His sister was a baby when he was a pre-teen boy, he wanted nothing to do with babies. He would rather be in tap class than deal with babies, but turns out he can’t put on his tap shoes and dance away his problems in life.

He has to be Dad first, Connor second now. As much as he cries and pleads with Kevin to come back, somehow in his heart he knows it’s a lost cause, and Kevin will never be coming back.

His heart aches for ages as his baby girl grows into a toddler girl and then into a  _ little _ girl with curly auburn pigtails and Kevin’s big, brown eyes. She has his ex’s laugh, and his dumbfounding dry sarcasm at the age of five, all tucked away deep inside her. She scrunches her face the way Kevin does when Connor does something either of them don’t like, and her lips curl outward when she smiles, and she has big dimples and her eyes crinkle at the corners and it’s so much like Kevin sometimes he can hardly breathe. 

On the other hand, he spends years pining for Kevin. He could easily move on and be with whomever he so chooses, but the Lord knows Elder McKinley was never that easy, and a man once in love, never is out of love again, and his dreams are invaded by painfully beautiful memories. Their first kiss. Their first date. Skinny dipping in the waterhole. Their first time together. And it’s all clashed against the details of Kevin’s life he’s filled in on. The nightmare wife-- what’s her name, Emily?-- and the constant unwanted sex and then the  _ new baby _ .

He feels like he should feel pride or something, that maybe Kevin will come  _ crawling back _ (though he’s fully aware if Kevin hadn’t been screwed up by his parents in the first place there’d be no crawling back at all, Kevin would still be here, and they would still be okay). But he feels nothing, really. He feels nothing, even as he kisses his boyfriend (who’s now on the tour of  _ Wicked _ ) and goes to his rehearsals for  _ Me and My Girl _ and works his goddamn ass off, he can’t feel anger towards Kevin.

Of course, all his unspoken anger is theoretical. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he ever confronted Kevin again, but he thinks maybe he’d cry. In every fake scenario he’s come up with in his head, he takes one look into Kevin’s sad eyes and just weeps, because he can’t help it, he knows he no longer feels the flames of their early love in the heat of Africa, but he can’t hold that anger over his ex any longer. Not when he knows Kevin is suffering, and hurting, and there is probably some spousal and parental abuse happening to him in that  _ sex cult _ he’s prescribed to. 

_ Big Mormon Family _ . Kevin hears it day in, day out. Feels it. Lives it.  _ Big Mormon Family. _ And through their bond, unfortunately, Connor lives it too. The unwanted pregnancy. The baby boy who Connor’s never seen (but knows his name), who’s his child’s little brother. The third baby who never was, whether a ghost or an actual miscarriage. The hitting. The words. Kevin choking on his tears. Kevin being a good dad.  
  
And Kevin was a good dad to Fae. He was, and Connor doesn’t know why he ever picked on Kevin to the point he felt like such a bad parent he had to leave forever. Connor never wanted that. Connor’s always wanted Kevin to be there, for their little girl, to be involved. But the manipulation of it all, the overbearing religious parents, the alpha wife-- Kevin is  _ trapped _ . And in a way, secondhand, Connor is too.

He’s at dinner with Chris and James the night of Kevin’s wedding. He badly wants a distraction. He has two rum and cokes, his hands shaking as he sees and witnesses Kevin’s fear and confusion as he’s shut and locked into a room, very drunk, probably drugged, and unable to stop what’s happening to him. He has to excuse himself to the bathroom to cry, because he can feel Kevin’s physical pain. The intrusion. The violation. And the deed is done.

And because of that event, Connor breaks his vow of silence against Kevin in the moment, sinking to the floor of the dirty bathroom stall and hugs his knees to his chest, feeling his breathing labor in sync with his former husband’s.

_ Fight. Please. Fight. _ Connor shakily cries,  _ Stop her from doing this. _

_ I can’t,  _ comes Kevin’s croak. And indeed, he does sound completely debilitated and weak. That’s almost as painful as hearing Kevin’s voice at all.

It’s over all too quickly, and Kevin’s left lying there, exposed and bare and demonized and abused, his mouth open as if it were to collect flies. It’d seem right; he’s pretty much dead on the inside. They both are.

He’s silent for too long, and Connor’s jaded, staring at the tiles and bracing himself to throw up. It’s all wrong. It’s all so, so very wrong, and disgusting, and for the longest time, they promised they’d be each other’s one and only’s. They don’t even get that opportunity.

_ Kevin? Are you there? _

_ Tell me about Fae, till I sleep,  _ Kevin whispers back,  _ Please. How is she? _

So he does, sniffling horribly, until Kevin’s end of the bond fizzles out and Connor knows he’s gone off to dreamland.

He never speaks to him again, after that, until  _ the phone call _ , until he’s hopping on a plane to go to the rescue, until they’re embracing in Kevin’s backyard and racing for the rental car. He squeezes Kevin so tight, he thinks he never wants to let go, and they’re laughing at the ridiculousness of the whole thing and Kevin’s squeezing Connor’s hand across the dashboard so hard that it hurts. 

They think they’ll race off into the night and be safe back home in their Albany apartment (still with Kevin belongings intact; they now live in a box under Connor’s bed and sometimes he sleeps with Kevin’s favorite hoodie on but lord knows he will never, ever tell Kevin that). 

Betrayal. He should’ve known the dogs would be on their trail, and Kevin does little to fight them back. He’s taken away from Connor so easily, and Connor’s face twists into anger and he’s yelling at all of them, all of the horrible people who broke his heart.

It just shows Connor how broken down his ex husband really is. Kevin used to be wildly outspoken when they went to college. He flung himself out of the closet, loud and proud. Their snark helped them survive college at all, with their witty retorts and sarcasm slipping off their tongues like honey. They were practically made for each other.    
  
Now, Kevin is broken down, shy, and soft spoken, his voice so hoarse he can hardly speak, and he looks so thin and small and hunched over. 

That was goodbye.

He meets Mark a few months later at a gay bar, because shortly after he knows he’s lost Kevin forever, he really throws himself into that gay party scene. Anyone who looks at him, really, he follows them up to their loft while Chris and James watch his kid. It’s messy, and Connor’s a mess, and not a model parent as much as he should be, and he’ll take it any which way. He tops, he bottoms, he tries every feasible position for sex within a few short months. Trying to forget.

_ You’re my one and only, _ Kevin once said, when things were good, when they went to parties together and had crazy sex and drank copious amounts of alcohol and wandered around the house in each other’s clothes,  _ I only ever want to be with you. _

_ Me too, _ Connor had giggled,  _ Now kiss me, you doofus. _

“Rough!” he screams to whoever is fucking him that night, “Be fucking rough, make me bleed-- please--”

Mark also likes it rough, and he likes to bottom, and he is such a stereotypical  _ gay omega _ , it’s such a far cry from Kevin’s alpha-esque charm. Kevin was muscley and tan while Mark is scrawny and honestly, kind of emo? But Connor isn’t afraid of difference, and when he takes things to the bed, he closes his eyes and pretends Kevin is underneath him, that Kevin’s the one moaning and writhing and growling out his name like a wild animal. Mark is a screamer. Kevin was a moaner, and so intimate and sensual and his thighs were thick and muscular and Connor ran his hands up and down Kevin’s abdomen and felt the brawn underneath him when he pushed his way in. He liked touching Kevin’s tight, round ass, and squeezing his hips and feeling  _ Kevin _ and  _ no one else _ . It was like they were made for each other, touching and feeling and just  __ being.  
  
That was hot. Nothing is hot to Connor anymore, but when he gets drunk enough anyone is hot to him. Anyone is Kevin to Connor, if he just closes his eyes and believes through the screaming and rough sex.

They had rough sex when they were married, don’t get him wrong, but Kevin liked being made love to. He liked taking their time and making out long and slow-like and being fondled and felt up. He liked to tease Connor and perform some elongated foreplay involving some fingers and his mouth, and wow, if Connor didn’t blush at the very memories.

_ I’m not gay. _ Kevin now says in a mantra in his head. He says it in the supermarket, out on dates with his wife, in every single rare moment he’s allowed outside of that hellhole. The only books Kevin is allowed to read are religious texts and speeches. He has many a pamphlet from his “omega sessions” about condemning homosexuality, that he repeats faithfully in his sleep.

It’s odd, because Connor knows Kevin  _ doesn’t _ like his wife, and detests copulating in any form with her, but still rejects the truth now. 

It’s like he’s been brainwashed.

Connor hates that he still pines for him like this. Still thinks about him, still worries for him and his health.

He doesn’t know whether or not if Kevin showed up one day on his doorstep, if he’d take him back.

It hurts, because he doesn’t know how stable Kevin is now. He knows that Kevin self-destructs, that he crashes and burns and engages in risky behavior when things don’t go his way, like drinking too much or throwing a tantrum, but it’s happened less and less frequently over the years. Kevin is all burned out now, and broken and bruised and abused.

He has the pictures of the literal bruises Arnold sent him saved to his phone. Sometimes, when he feels like hating Kevin, he opens them up and takes a look and reminds himself this is what his mate is dealing with, and that they are soul-bonded for life, whether they like each other or not anymore (Connor’s not sure if he ever stopped caring about Kevin, ever). And he doesn’t like it one bit that this is the treatment Kevin is getting.

He doesn’t tell his boyfriend this, of course, and within six months Mark books the Wicked tour and also moves into the apartment, coming home on his weeks off and watches over Fae. He’s good with kids, for such an innately sexual and roughhousing being. And Fae seems to like her “Uncle Mark”, more than she liked “Uncle Jim”, “Uncle Parker”, and “Uncle Brett”, all of which tried to usurp Connor’s status as the “dominant” figure in their relationship.

Connor likes that Kevin talks to him, even though he swears he will never, ever talk back. He can’t do it anymore, he can’t reel himself in and hope Kevin will return only to get his heart smashed into a million pieces. He listens to Kevin’s ramblings about the baby, whose name is Matthew and he’s one years old, and his wife, and whether or not he should hang up paintings by  _ Keith Haring  _ in the house just to piss off that dreaded Emily.

He responds in his head but not in his heart. He doesn’t let Kevin in on to hear what he has to say. He’s certain, and it’s very sad, that Kevin probably thinks he’s going slowly crazy. The rules of that household are so strict even Connor feels terrible for him. He’s only allowed to walk his wife dog’s in the backyard, and the front door is always locked from the outside, as are the windows, and there’s an electric fence in the yard. He’s basically a prisoner. Arnold and Naba can come over once a week, but he cannot go to their house. It’s like a teenager who’s grounded, except for life, and on Family Home Evenings, his ex is expected to just bend over and take it.

It’s disgusting.

Nothing about the situation is okay, for either of them.  
  
The morning of the reunion, he’s nervous.

_ Kevin won’t be there. Relax. _ He tells himself when he gets ready for the Sunday matinee of  _ Me and My Girl _ . Fae will spend the afternoon in his dressing room, playing with her new stuffed rabbit in her special corner of the room, and then off to the babysitters for the night. He worked so hard to move up from ensemble to a leading role, and he intends to stay that way no matter what.    
  
He braid’s Fae’s delicate curls. He’s not very good, but they’re passable, and she’s only five so she doesn’t  _ really _ notice. Kevin was the one with multiple sisters closer in age. He knew how to braid hair, and was incredibly efficient at it. It was one of his hidden talents. At least Connor understands the fashion part, and is more than capable of getting her dressed in a pretty little outfit. He makes her crepes for breakfast (he’s always been awfully good at those, they were Kevin’s favorite breakfast of Connor’s confection), and smothers her with kisses and affection before they head out the door to take the subway to the theatre.

“I love you, papa.” she tells him. He grins from ear to ear.  
  
“Not as much as I love you.”

Today will be a good day. 

Nothing will stand in the way of that.

Nothing.

_ I’m not gay, I’m not gay, I’m not gay, I’m not gay. _

It plays on repeat on his head the whole way to the hotel, and he scratches his arms privately in the lobby bathroom until they’re red and stinging.

_ He won’t tempt me, nothing will tempt me. I’m not gay. I’m healed. _

He swallows down a large glass of water, a huge gulp chasing its way down. He’s sweating with anxiety, cold and clammy, his hands shaky as he forces himself to look pleasant for Arnold and Naba, but even he knows that they can tell what’s wrong with him. What’s wrong with this whole damn thing.

Kevin doesn’t know what to expect as the elevator climbs higher and higher and higher, going to floor 50, where the  _ rooftop ballroom _ is.

He stayed in a different hotel than the other elders, who all booked it in the same spot as the reunion. Nabulungi and Arnold wanted to keep Kevin a secret. A surprise. To protect him, really, and maybe protect Connor from bailing if he knew Kevin would be there. They’re sparing everyone the anxiety of dreading Connor’s reaction. The one who is most anxious is Kevin.

He bites his lip really hard in the elevator, tapping his foot until Nabulungi wraps her arm around his. She gives him a nudge, offering him a bit of solace in a difficult time.  
  
“You shouldn’t worry,” Nabulungi soothes, “I cannot imagine that anyone will be even remotely cruel to you, not today.”  
  
Glumly, Kevin scuffs his foot across the floor of the elevator. It’s stressing him out way more than he should be stressed, and really, what  _ is _ the worry? He will be fine. He just has to believe he’ll be fine in order to  _ be  _ fine. Which is way easier said, than done.


	9. PART ONE: Chapter 9

When they were both young, and in love, Kevin often found himself more content and settled in the safe world he had built with his boyfriend. He and Connor were entangled in the vines of romance, thorns and all, and nothing seemed to be able to break the barrier. Not even a baby, or a thrown together proposal and subsequent marriage. 

He wonders when it began to go wrong. Maybe it was wrong in the beginning, when they hid in the secret crevices of the house and kissed each other under the bright light of the moon. Their clothes shed away much easier then, something was thrilling and pulse-pounding about the adrenaline rush that came with a dangerous, forbidden love. It was like the movies Kevin grew up watching in the dark shadows of his own bedroom, when he wasn’t supposed to be up at night yet still pulled out his laptop and let the glow of the screen enrapture him as he imagined the football captain locking lips with him, the damsel in distress.

It was from that phase of his life that his hyper masculinity facade he’d forced upon himself began to fade, and dissipate until all that mattered was Connor’s lips and hands and teeth, grazing, kissing, touching. Connor could ask him to do anything and Kevin would drop on his knees and moan just for him, only him.    
  
His old clothing, save a few fond articles, was discarded with that chapter of his life, and then he found himself comfortable in the solace of his softer, more feminine side. He could be an omega, and be okay, without worrying what the world felt he was supposed to be. The shorts got shorter, the shirts got tighter, he shaved every hair off of his arms and legs and embraced that smooth feeling of pampering his skin and body. He was thirstier than ever. Thirsty for knowledge, thirsty for affection, thirsty for the feeling of self-love. He hadn’t ever quite gotten to it, but he felt so close he could almost reach it. It was just out of arm’s length: happiness.

Nowadays, he isn’t allowed to wear his old clothes. He doesn’t even have them, he left those behind in Albany. Loose jeans, loose t’s, dress shirts and slacks for the rare formal events he has to go to. His onesie-like temple garments make a sickening comeback, making him feel trapped in his own body once again. He is trapped. Forbidden to feel, touch, or even leave. His two-story house with the white picket fence and the lawn full of flowers feels like a locked up castle, like something out of Tangled, where he is Rapunzel and waiting for life to begin. But life had already begun, he just put himself back in his place, back in the castle, and cut down his hair for no chance of escape. 

He took the lock and key, and shut the door.

When he exits the elevator from behind Arnold and Nabulungi, he’s wearing a new suit, but even that feels like a vice, keeping him from appearing the way  _ he _ wants. His baby pink tie is the closest thing he has to grasping that raw, sensitive side of himself, but the suit doesn’t match it. It hangs a bit loosely on him. He’s lost weight, too much, probably, and he feels exposed. They’ll know.

They’ll all know what’s happened to him.

As if Connor hasn’t already run his mouth and told the world how his husband  _ abandoned _ him. How Kevin was too mentally weak to function properly, how he’d gone  _ insane _ and left the entire family he had behind. How he couldn’t even care for their kid.

It’s shameful. Kevin is most certainly  _ ashamed _ .

The elders all murmur as soon as Kevin approaches the reunion party, their faces uncertain. Zelder always hated him, and Schrader, too, and Neeley was always super wary. Yet, it’s Schrader who first approaches and envelops him in an unexpected hug, giving him a pat on the back.  
  
“Welcome back, it’s good to see you.” he says. 

Kevin feels like crying. That’s a spark, because then their former elders all exhale a sigh of relief from the tension in the room, and all take their turns asking Kevin how he’s been, and include him in their conversations. It feels like he’s never left, as if the whole world finally remembered he existed. 

Connor isn’t there.

“ _ Should we tell him? _ ” Chris whispers just out of earshot to James.  
  
“ _ No, Connor is an adult and he can take care of himself. Quit babying him. _ ” James retorts, before also joining Kevin’s side to welcome him.  
  
It’s been a long time since he’s seen his friend James. Too long, in fact, because he was deemed an  _ inappropriate influence _ by his wife and parents, and thus James and Chris were shut out from contact. Every now and then, Kevin leaves their texts unanswered. It just hurts too bad. Everyone he loved and cared about was made to stay away from him. They probably all secretly hate him; and he wouldn’t blame them.

“Kevin.” James says, and pulls him into a hug as well. It’s a long one, and Kevin feels James rest his chin on Kevin’s shoulder. They had been so close before, and now, something feels off, and Kevin knows it’s himself. He ruined this. 

“Hey,” Kevin replies, his voice cracking, “How are you?”   
  
James pulls away, and has a weary smile on his face. They’re all so much older, now, and far more exhausted.

“I’m fine. How are  _ you? _ ”   
  
James’s eyes wander up and down Kevin’s pathetic frame. He seems to know all too well how skinny and frail Kevin has become in this state. It’s sad, really, that everyone just  _ knows. _ Kevin tugs on his sleeve, trying to hide his anxiety.   
  
“I’m also fine.” Kevin insists.  
  
“It’ll be okay,” James says, seeing right through the lie, “Connor talks about you a lot. I think he’ll want to see you.”   
  
“He...  _ why _ ?”

James diverts the question, waving him off with the back of his hand. He rests a hand on Kevin’s shoulder, guiding him towards the long dinner table where they’ll have food eventually. Hors d'oeuvres are already set all over the place, and Kevin feels his stomach gnaw at itself from his hunger. It’s sad, really. He’d forgotten what being well fed-- what feeling well  _ loved _ \-- felt like. 

“You don’t look so good. Why don’t we sit?” 

“Oh-okay.”

They talk for a long while, about meaningless things, like their children and Kevin gradually stuffs his face with  _ more and more food _ , his stomach’s growling never ceasing. James seems to understand and doesn’t necessarily stop him.

“What are they feeding you in Utah? Nothing but applesauce?” he laughs.   
  
Kevin fidgets uncomfortably, scratching his arm. He is not laughing. James’s laugh dies as quickly as it had began, and he finds himself just as anxious as his friend in front of him.

“No. I’m eating fine, thank-you-very-much,” he insists, “I am perfectly happy and healthy, mind you.”

He attempts a smile, to brush it off as he’s joking around, but James doesn’t buy it. He grasps Kevin’s hand, pulling it away from his arm.

“You can be honest with me. I’ve missed you, Kevin. It’s not fair we only get to hear about you from Connor and Arnold, and Connor doesn’t know what’s  _ really _ going on with you.”

“Nothing’s going on with me.”   
  
“None of us have seen you in 3 years,” James replies sadly, “It’s been a long, long time.” 

“Wull, that’s not my fault, so…”   
  
“Oh, I know, I’m not blaming you. But you can talk to me. That’s all. I’m not going to judge you.”

“Thanks.” Kevin quips, “Then let’s not talk about it, okay? I’m fine. I’m  _ fine. _ ”   
  
James gives him that look, the same one everyone gives him, when they pity him, when they know the  _ truth _ , and he hates that. He hates all of it.

Maybe he just shouldn’t have come.

An hour creeps by, and there is no Connor, and Kevin begins to fret, conjuring up every possibility in his mind. Maybe Chris told Connor so he wouldn’t come. He feels nothing through the bond, and that’s even worse because he uses Connor’s moods to predict his behavior and nothing about this situation is predictable.    
  
Connor probably doesn’t want to see him, anyhow. 

They distract Kevin the best they can. Somehow, he knows it’s because Connor must be coming. He’s late, but he must be coming otherwise they wouldn’t keep Kevin on his toes so much, skirting him around the room and constantly forcing him to engage in conversation with every single person around him. Not that he doesn’t want to catch up with his former elders, but he isn’t stupid, and he knows precisely what’s going on.

He feels the itch deep in his mark, deep in his soul. The anxiety of it all keeps his heart pounding in his chest, his skin feeling clammy and cool and his hands shaky. He’s not sure whether he’s excited or terrified at the prospect of seeing his ex husband. 

_ I’m not gay,  _ he tells himself.  _ They fixed me. I’m not gay. I just want to see my kid again. _

That’s what he wants to believe, badly, that Fae is the sole reason he wants to see Connor. Feelings died a long, long time ago. He’s going to stay strong. He can pull through this, he just has to believe he can. 

They eat dinner without Connor, because apparently Connor has already eaten and had to take care of Fae a few hours longer because of the babysitter not being at their home on time, so Kevin’s worry is pushed aside for just a moment and he stuffs his face while ignoring the judgement of his peers. Well, he shouldn’t say  _ judgement _ , they’re worried about him. It’s not just James, even Chris keeps looking at him with pity.

If the whole situation didn’t hurt enough.

He’s mid conversation with Arnold when it happens. He feels it before the elevator doors even open, and he sheepishly looks over his shoulders right when he hears the “DING!”  
  
The doors slide open, and out he steps, his hair a little shaggier and his face worn and tired, and he’s not smiling, at least, not at that moment. He has a suit on, a much nicer suit than Kevin’s and he’s got on a tie-- a  _ green tie  _ that Kevin  _ recognizes _ because he bought it for him, years ago. Chris and James and the other elders begin to approach, joyous for their district leader’s appearance. It takes them a split second to both snap out of it, but then their eyes meet for a second, and Connor’s weariness melts away and suddenly he has this big, dopey look on his face.

Almost… he almost remembers, something, something a long time ago, the last time Connor looked at him like that.  
  
Like Kevin was the most beautiful thing he’d ever, ever seen.

But Kevin can’t bear to look at him any longer.

He pushes past Arnold, ignoring the calls of “Buddy,  _ wait-- _ ” over his shoulder. Kevin rolls his eyes, heading for the balcony to sit alone.

The evening has gone too far, and he made a mistake in coming here, and now Connor’s gonna come looking for him and  _ darnit, _ he doesn’t want anyone listening in on his business. He finds his way to the outdoors. There’s a skyline view (of course there is, Connor booked this hotel for the event, he wouldn’t skimp out on impressing their peers), and the softest, sweetest hum of the cars hundreds of feet below.

He doesn’t dare go too close to the edge, out of fear of everything, really. Heights, death, falling, you name it, Kevin has become too cautious. He has a child at home to care for, who depends on him, who he can’t leave with his  _ wife _ . He’d never let that happen. Never.

He curls up on the couch facing the window, his eyes glazing over a bit. He misses his baby, so much. He touches his hands to his stomach, letting them rest there a moment longer. There is no life under his touch, but it feels like days ago he was stroking his stomach, counting down the hours until his baby arrives. Every minute, tick tick ticked away, until he arrived, and Kevin felt empty once again. The hole came back, with a vengeance, leaving him sorely depressed.

But this time, unlike with Fae, he was better prepared. He couldn’t slip away, or fail. He had to be strong. So he was. So he tries to be, still, even with the whole world crushing him underneath it’s cruel weight, breaking all his bones, his soul, his will to live. Despite it all being so painful, he picks up the pieces and tries again.

Because one day, he’ll be free.

“Hey.”

The voice startles Kevin’s view away from the midnight blue sky, and he finds Connor standing at the entrance of the balcony. How long had he been sitting out here?   
  
Kevin stares for a moment, and then scowls, and then clenches his jaw. He says nothing. Connor doesn’t even look the least bit mad,  _ darn him _ , because he just smiles a little warily.  
  
“Can I come sit by you and talk? It’s cold out.” 

His voice sounds a little ragged. He can feel through his bond that Connor is physically tired, and he can see faintly the bags under his eyes and the worn posture. He slumps a bit forward. Connor was always upstanding and proper, and as any straight person would say, he “ _ wore the pants _ ” in their marriage.

But that doesn’t matter to Kevin, who turns away and avoids and sucks down everything he’s feeling.

“Don’t touch me.” Kevin growls, “Don’t you even think about it.”   
  
Connor laughs, and it’s piercing to Kevin’s ears. He hugs his knees to his chest and stubbornly looks away, resting his chin on his knees. Without even listening, Connor’s fingers brush over Kevin’s shoulder, making him flinch as he rounds the couch to sit on the opposite side of his body. He’s close, not so close they’re touching but Connor’s facing him and their knees are inches away and Kevin’s face  _ burns _ inappropriately, but it’s so dark out that he hopes Connor can’t see him.

He’s sure he feels it, anyhow.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Connor says, without any hesitation, “How are you?”   
  
“Did James put you up to this?”   
  
“No,” Connor says, “I want to talk to you.”   
  
“I don’t.”   
  
Connor mock-pouts.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to talk to me, when you ask me to speak to you through our bond all the time.”

Kevin snaps his head his direction, his face a little wounded.  
  
“So you  _ do _ listen.”

Connor’s hair is very red under the pale yellow lights fixed onto the walls, and his cheeks still as pink as ever and Kevin feels inexplicably warm. He tells himself it’s from anger. But he knows, somewhere deep down, that he is alone in New York City with a man and the bile that’s churning in his stomach and how shaky his hands are, is all because of Connor’s nearness.

One half of him wants to smack him around and beguile him for not fighting-- for not being  _ strong-- _ enough for Kevin, to make him stay, to help him find his sanity once again. The other half wants to shove him up against a wall and violently kiss him again, and again, until they’re both moaning and touching and he’ll have him  _ anywhere, _ and he means  _ anywhere. _

It’s so disgusting, and he absolutely loathes himself for the thought.

“I do,” Connor says cautiously, “I don’t like to talk long-distance though, do you?”   
  
“So you just let me suffer in silence. That makes ignoring me okay.”   
  
“Do you want me to be honest? I’ve seen pictures of bruises. Arnold’s showed me some things.”   
  
Kevin digs his fingers into his arms, letting his nails scrape against his skin as he scratches them like he always does when he’s anxious.

“I told him not to do that.”   
  
“Is your dad still hitting you, Kevin?” Connor continues, as bluntly as ever. He inches closer on the couch.

“No.” Kevin lies.   
  
“You didn’t have to come to this reunion,” Connor says pointedly, “I think we’re at a state where we can be honest with each other. You knew I was coming and you wanted to talk to me, didn’t you?”   
  
After brief hesitation, Kevin shamefully nods. He continues to let his nails scrape at his skin, and he finally faces Connor with a bit of that honesty he’s looking for.

“Were you hoping I was coming?” Kevin asks.   
  
Connor’s lips quirk upwards at the corners, and he dangerously lets a hand outreach towards Kevin’s. The brunette flinches at the contact, but Connor wraps his fingers around Kevin’s own and does not let go. He pulls his hand away from his throbbing, pink arm and just holds his hand across the fabric of the couch, letting Kevin grow accustomed to the feeling, the  _ sensation _ of another man touching him without any malice or harm intended.

It’s strangely comforting, and Kevin lets himself breathe again, lets the panic loosen its way out of every knot and allows himself to  _ feel _ again.

Kevin thinks he ought to like it that way. Just him and Connor against the entire world. But that was a long time ago. He loosens the tension in his arm, and lets Connor give him a comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay to have a guy hold your hand, you know.”   
  
“I haven’t been near a  _ guy _ outside of the Church in a long time,” Kevin mutters, “I’m not allowed outside of the house unless I’m accompanied by Emily, because of… well, you remember.”   
  
“I do. It’s been years, yeah?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
They’re quiet for a while longer then, and Connor shifts a little closer, and Kevin is wary of it, but there’s nowhere else for him to move. Connor’s hand is warm, far warmer than the frigid, shaky hand of his own, and he says nothing. Kevin is shivering against the light breeze, watching the lights of the city flicker and twinkle around them.

“I missed you,” Connor says, and laughs when Kevin makes a face and remains silent.  
  
“No; really, I did.”

“Sure,” Kevin mumbles, “Who wouldn’t miss their emotionally stunted ex?”   


“Things are different now. I think things can get better.”

Connor slides closer. Kevin rolls his eyes, scooting back against the arm of the chair.  
  
“You’re coming onto me. I’m  _ not _ gay.”   
  
Holding up his hands in protest, Connor offers an eyeroll of his own.  
  
“That’s not what you were saying when we got married.”   
  
Furiously, Kevin folds his arms over his chest.   
  
“Well, we’re not anymore, okay? I have a wife! I am very,  _ very _ straight!” Kevin snaps, and then instantly regrets his tone because then it’s  _ Connor’s _ turn to flinch away.   
  
“Okay.” Connor says coolly. 

He turns back towards the skyline.   
  
“You missed Chris and James’ wedding. It was a few blocks away at a fancier hotel. Everyone was there.”   
  
“Well, I don’t really like big cities,” Kevin says, “This is too, um, intense for me.”

Connor raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah? You think so?” he muses.

“Does she like living here?” Kevin asks, to break the silence, “It seems... overwhelming.”   
  
“She does. We have a three-bedroom apartment. It’s cozy, in a quiet neighborhood on the Upper East Side. I walk her to school-- here, let me show you a picture.”

Connor pulls out his phone, swiping through it before he pushes it into Kevin’s hands. 

He hasn’t seen any pictures of his daughter in years.

With shaky hands, Kevin holds it close, his eyes glued to the screen as he looks at the picture of Fae. His lips are trembling, his body overcome with a rush of coldness everywhere but his cheeks; those are far too warm and splotchy as he fights not to cry.  
  
She has thick, smooth auburn hair. It’s dark enough to be Kevin’s, but it has a reddish sheen to it that’s unmistakably Connor’s. Dark eyes, freckles, and two scrunchie-clad pigtails and a little pink book bag over her awkward, tiny shoulders.

She  _ is _ Kevin. She is a tiny, itty bitty part of him, and the last time he held her in his arms he never even got to say goodbye. 

Kevin must be crying, because Connor wraps an arm around his shoulders before he rests his head against the side of Kevin’s. His breathing staggered, Kevin tries to squirm away, but the strength of Connor’s affection through the bond halts him and leaves him grounded in the same place he was in… and he lets Connor hug him.

He hates it. He loves it. He stays as still as possible, swallowing down his tears before he returns Connor’s phone to him. Connor pockets it again, before his fingers massage into Kevin’s shoulder.

“She’s so beautiful.” Kevin gasps, “Gosh. She looks just like me.”   
  
“I’m glad you came. She asks about you.” Connor whispers. 

His chin quivering, Kevin bawls, covering his eyes with his hands. It’s too much, he made a mistake in coming here, in letting Connor talk to him, in letting him come near him at all.  
  
“She knows who I am?” Kevin whimpers.

“Of course she does. You’re her dad.”

“What about Mark?”   
  
He doesn’t know why he says it, because Connor has this conflicted look on his face after and damn it Kevin, damn it, why would you  _ say that _ , and bring up some man you don’t even know? Kevin looks away, the heat burning in his cheeks, and scrubs at his eyes with his hands.

“We--  _ Mark? _ He’s, well, uh--”   
  
“He’s  _ dad _ , isn’t he?” Kevin accuses, “She loves him more than me.”   
  
“Kevin, Mark and I… well, it’s, we see other people, okay?”   
  
Kevin blinks, letting the weight of that sink in.

“You…?”   
  
Connor rests a hand on Kevin’s knee involuntarily, as he squeezes his shoulder with the other one.  
  
“Mark and I are in an, um, god this is embarrassing, we’re in a uh,  _ open relationship. _ ”   
  
And then he chuckles like that doesn’t mean anything, like Kevin hasn’t watched people in his community in plural marriages get thrown around, like omegas are property, like  _ Kevin _ is property.  
  
It explains why Kevin knows exactly when Connor’s having sex. He feels it through the bond, and shamefully he’s always alone in the house and taking a very,  _ very _ cold shower to mask his jealousy, to mask his  _ arousal _ . His  **fury** .  
  
“So how many omegas have you bonded with other than me? How many other people are your property?” Kevin snarls.

Wounded, Connor says, “No one. I’d thought you’d think better of me in that sense. But I guess you’re that brainwashed at this point.”

And then, he adds, “Why? You jealous or something?”   
  
_ What do I have that they don’t? _ Kevin thinks, letting his fury rage over. He remembers their first time. How special it was. How tender and gentle Connor was, and then all he does is sleep around now, with anyone he can get his hands on. It’s disgusting. It’s like everything they had got thrown away.

Connor pulls his arm out from under Kevin’s shoulders, and he instead takes his hand again, not letting Kevin pull away from his infuriated tantrum. He has this sort of shit-eating, dangerous smile on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s riling Kevin up.

“I thought what we had was special.” Kevin retorts.   
  
“You just said we aren’t married anymore.” Connor snickers.   
  
“We have a kid together.” Kevin cries, “I thought--”   
  
“You told me you’re not gay.” 

And then, with that sort of snark, he says, “Kevin Price, are you…  _ coming onto me? _ ”   
  
“Maybe!” Kevin huffs, “What’s it to you?”

“You just said--”   
  
“Well, I’m gonna contradict myself because no one is here to supervise my every gosh-darn move, okay? Let me have some fun, since that’s clearly what you want me to do.”  
  
Connor  _ wants _ something, some sort of conclusion, because he’s pushing Kevin’s buttons in all the ways Kevin knows Connor would manipulate him with, and Kevin’s (willingly) buying into it, his moral values slipping away one, by one, by one, and Connor’s hand on his knee is a dangerous and it’s making Kevin blush, and he wants Connor’s hand to move a little bit more upward. He wants Connor to pin him down and put him in his place.

How disgusting, it should be, but Kevin’s wife is nowhere near him and he’s free to be himself, for  _ once _ in his life, and he wants to make the most of this moment if it costs him everything… at least he lived freely for just a moment. 

“Kevin.” Connor repeats, “You’re zoning out.”

His face is red, and he looks Connor dead in the eyes, trying to find the right words. The right words aren’t what tumbles out of his lips, but he can’t restrain himself.   
  
“My dad still hits me. Smacks me around like… like I’m some puppy to be kicked. In front of my mom. My kid. Everyone. Matthew’s a year old and I’ve been popped in the jaw with him in my arms. He does not care what I’m doing, if I’m  _ immoral _ he’ll just… you know.”  
  
He doesn’t know why he decides then to tell the truth, but then he’s squeezing Connor’s hand back, really, really hard, and he doesn’t let go. Connor gives him a knowing look.  
  
“I’m sorry.” he says, genuinely.

“I’m tired, Connor.” Kevin croaks, “Can you come closer?”  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
He cups Connor’s face gently with his free hand.

He gives Connor plenty of time to pull away, to give  _ any _ indication that he doesn’t want this-- doesn’t want  _ Kevin _ \-- but he doesn’t react in any negative way. Rather, Connor leans into Kevin’s eager touch. 

Then, hesitantly, slowly, Kevin presses forward and lets their lips connect. He’s gentle and prude at first, his cheeks flushed and his face warm as he forcefully reminds himself that he is  _ allowed _ to want boys, he is  _ allowed _ to be himself, unashamedly. He makes a start to pull away, but Connor wraps his arms around him, kissing him a bit more fervently. 

That’s when Kevin starts to take the reigns for a moment, running his fingers through Connor’s hair like he’s never touched it before. Connor doesn’t seem to mind, because he moans right into it, and his hand moves exactly where Kevin wants it. Kevin groans, bucking his hips as Connor smoothes his fingers through his hair, before crawling on top of him. Connor slips on top of his knees, settling into his lap, pushing Kevin backwards onto the couch as he takes the lead. 

“I said, come here,” Kevin growls, all low and alluring, “This is what I  _ want. _ ”

“Shit.” Connor mumbles, rubbing his fingertips over Kevin’s chest, “I don’t wanna do this here, not right now.”   
  
“I do,” Kevin babbles underneath him; he’s deprived of whatever this is, whatever he’s  _ needed _ , so badly, he’s on the verge of tears.

“Your wife--”   
  
“Bring her up and you won’t be getting in my pants.  _ Shut _ it.”

Kevin starts untying Connor’s tie, his fingers working so fast you’d swear he hadn’t gotten laid in years (it sure felt that way, for him), and he starts immediately moving on to the buttons before Connor stops him.  
  
“No, wait, I’ll call a cab,” Connor whispers, with a promise of  _ more _ if they go back to his place. 

An eager, lovesick puppy, Kevin follows his alpha’s lead, plodding after him with heavy footsteps and heavy breathing. Their hands linked alone makes every hair on his body stand on end, his whole being stretched all the way out and wrapped around his soul to embrace the command of  _ Connor, Connor, Connor _ , the way it should be, the way it’s always been.

A few of their friends try to stop them from making a mistake, but Kevin knows it’s a mistake  _ meant _ to be made, and he doesn’t really want to let go, and most certainly not of Connor. So he obediently holds onto Connor’s hand as he leads him to the elevator, and hungrily slides his hand down every little button.    
  
He wants to make this last as long as possible.

By the time they get to a cab, everything is a blur for Kevin. From the lights to the sounds to the  _ whirr _ of Times Square, and he can’t even pay attention to anything but Connor’s hands on his shoulders, his cheeks, his hair. It’s a 10 minute ride up to Connor’s apartment, and by then he is practically dying for release.  
  
“You’re giving me blue balls,” Kevin whines, fiddling with Connor’s belt from behind as he struggles with the keys.

He nips Connor’s ear a little harder than intended, which makes him yelp. 

“Gimme a sec and I’ll take care of it, sweetheart.”   
  
That shoots waves of arousal through him, and he groans, resting his head on Connor’s shoulders as he wraps his arms around his waist. He likes the pet names, the messy sex-- all of it-- he wants it all and  _ has _ it all right in his grasp, quite literally.    
  
Connor gets the door open at last, and then he’s leading Kevin into a dark apartment and towards the bedroom (because where else would they go at this point) and sits him down on the mattress. It’s cold, and clean, and Kevin thinks the last time he’d made his bed that he shared with Connor must’ve been in  _ Uganda _ , because after that they were just too damn lazy and excited to be sharing a space to actually make their bed every morning. Kevin’s hands weave their way to his belt buckles, and he finally manages to get that off of him before he starts unzipping and dropping Connor’s slacks.

His ex is completely hard now, and panting, his voice breaking as Kevin’s hands wander and grope and tease.  
  
“You’re gonna undress me too, right?” Kevin teases, coy and sharp, working his way through Connor’s shirt buttons, “I want you to remember that those other omegas don’t have what  _ I  _ have.”   
  
“Whatever you want,” Connor growls, before he does exactly that.

Connor seems a little shocked, borderline  _ appalled _ that Kevin has temple garments on, but he takes more than enough joy in tearing them off of Kevin--  _ literally _ tearing them in the process; shedding Kevin of that old snakeskin and bringing back his husband underneath, and making his mark on every single last inch of his skin. Kevin’s hips roll at the contact, and he tears his nails down Connor’s back as soon as his lips touch Kevin’s pelvis. 

“Come on-- come on, fuck me.” Kevin demands. He doesn’t even notice the swear-word slip.

“What was that?”   
  
Connor sounds positively  _ husky _ and deep now, and damn, if Kevin isn’t so into that.

“ _ Fuck _ me. I can’t wait any longer.” 

His head is resting on a sea of soft pillows that halo around his tousled hair, and he spreads his legs eagerly as Connor finally shucks his pants off his ankles and crawls forward. They don’t do a whole lot of foreplay after that. Kevin spreads his legs, and Connor just goes right in. 

Their bodies always fit together so symmetrically, and Connor was always big enough to satisfy him so the matter of whether or not it’s pleasurable is out of the question. It sure as hell feels fantastic, and Kevin is practically drooling beneath him as he finally gets back what was taken from him, years ago.

They weren’t even having a whole lot of sex, those sad, miserable last few months of their marriage, and whatever passion they thought they once had became all dried up and withered away like it was nothing. Like  _ they _ were nothing. They sure felt like losers when it was all done, all spent up and writhing from the pain. He closes his eyes. Nothing is easy, anymore. Nothing is sacred.

This feels special, though, and true to his word Connor takes it slow, easing into Kevin as he adjusts to the feeling of  _ Connor _ inside him. He whispers little sweet nothings into his ear, asking if he’s okay, asking if it’s too much. Tears rolling down his cheeks, Kevin whispers for him to keep going. He’s not sure why he’s crying, really. Maybe it’s the fact that Connor’s clinging to him as if he’s about to disappear into thin air. That hurts a bit, but Kevin pushes the negative thoughts away to just  _ feel _ everything, his head tilted back with pleasure as he gasps and whines into his pillow.

“Harder,” he whimpers.

“You sure?” Connor says, his voice so ragged it sends chills down Kevin’s spine.

“Please--  _ please _ !”

_ You are a pillow princess, _ Naba had told him once. With glee, Kevin thinks,  _ Yes. Yes I am.  
_   
It’s all over more quickly than it began, and Kevin’s left sticky and hot and a bit of a mess, his head swimming and his eyes droopy with exhaustion as Connor wrings his release. He can’t even bring himself to stop him, he didn’t even ask him to wear a condom; nothing, he just let Connor go at it. Maybe it was unwise. Maybe not, Kevin has nothing left to  __ lose .

The moon is the only light against the shadows of Connor’s bedroom, and sated and sleepy they both are under its gaze. He curls his fingers into the duvet, pulling it over his worn and exhausted body.

And for once, Kevin sleeps soundlessly, without once wondering the repercussions of his behavior.   
  



End file.
